


Recidivus Atrox

by SierraKathleen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Minor Violence, Profanity, Self-Harm, Slashy, Suggestive Themes, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2011-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 60,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraKathleen/pseuds/SierraKathleen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Hell has risen, and so an old "friend" must rise with it. Sam and Castiel must strive to protect Dean at all costs, even if it means against his will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For clarification, the title Recidivus Atrox translates to "returning horror" from Latin to English. Just thought I'd throw that out there ^___^
> 
> I'd like to dedicate this story to 67impalalover (on ff.net) –- I've just had the greatest time chatting it up with her, plus I know that she is just sooo into Alastair. Without anything further, please enjoy!!

Dean Winchester's breath increased from its steady flow to a wild pant as he slowly shifted beneath the blankets of his motel bed. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest –- a bizarre tingling sensation spreading over his entire body along with a terrifying sense of falling. Or being pulled into some unknown abyss. Suddenly it hit him like an ocean wave – burning heat that was nearly unbearable to withstand. Then came the screams. A terrified woman, an agonized man. All of them helpless and afraid. All of them damned to the pits of Hell for all eternity.

Dean took a cautious step backwards, watching as two demons –- both in their horrific true forms –- hauled a man off towards the rack. "Please," the petrified soul cried out into the darkness, "Please. I don't deserve this!"

A chill ran down Dean's spine as he shuddered at the man's words. Wearily he began lurking backwards once more, attempting his best to make sure his presence went unnoticed. Suddenly, the hunter lost his footing and he came tumbling back onto nothingness. Dean gasped, spinning his head around rapidly. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the unsettling darkness that surrounded him, his heart rate gradually returning to a somewhat normal beat. Without warning, the air around him suddenly constricted into a freezing wave –- colder than anything Dean had ever felt in all his time spent in the far corners of hell. The only time in which something even relatively similar to this had happened was when an almighty demon was nearby...

In a now panicked state, Dean crawled backwards wanting –- needing –- to escape from whatever entity was coming for him. Then, out of nowhere, his hand landed on something that stuck out drastically from the surrounding terrain. Dean ran his fingers over the strange object, its material very closely resembling leather. Reaching just slightly further behind him, Dean could now feel laces belonging to that of a shoe -- someone stood literally just over his shoulder.

"Why, hello there Dean," a familiar voice echoed in a nasal tone. Dean's eyes widened in fear as he quickly darted forward, desperately wanting to be able to face his long lost opponent. "So sorry to have startled you my boy, certainly not my intention," the voice continued smugly.

"Where are you, you son of a bitch?" Dean growled, his eyes darting in every direction possible.

A shrill laugh emulated from the nearby creature's throat, the sound of joints popping as it evidently crouched down to Dean's eye level. "Oh I'm here," the voice declared simply, drawing ever closer to Dean, "The question is, where are you?" With that, milky white eyes emerged from the darkness, Dean now unable to keep his body from trembling. "Where could you possibly be hiding?"

Dean closed his eyes tightly, feeling like a small child trapped on a haunted house amusement ride. It's just a nightmare, he tried to reassure himself, just a stupid, freaking nightmare. Almost as if his hope had altered reality, Dean opened his eyes to the solemn hotel room. Surprisingly, he had just awoken –- no sudden gasp, no cold sweat, nothing. Throwing the bed sheets off his body, he arose slowly, glancing around his surroundings. Now feeling the tension melting away from his muscles, Dean let out a long drawn sigh.

"It's not that easy, Dean," that nerve racking voice came once again from behind the hunter. Reluctantly, Dean turned to finally see his tormentor –- there before him, Alastair slid his eyes back into their human state. With the blink of an eye, the demon appeared unsettlingly close to Dean –- close enough to just reach out and grab him as a matter of fact.

Dean swallowed hard, a tight lump forming in his throat. "This isn't real," he muttered, but it was more of a question than statement.

"Oh it will be soon enough," Alastair assured Dean, running a hand down the hunter's jaw line, allowing it to rest on his chin, "I'm coming for you, Dean. Remember, your soul still belongs to me."

Dean's lips quivered as he clenched back all the curses and furious comebacks that dwelled within him –- he wouldn't speak, wouldn't retort. He'd just allow Alastair to have his mind games, and then the show would be over. Wouldn't it? Dean knew from much experience that Alastair fed off the hatred and unrelenting rage that so many people hid deep inside their souls. He knew all the right phrases to say, all the right nerves to dance upon –- and damn, was he a skilled dancer. Still, the demon smiled pleasantly at the lack of Dean's response, contently staring into his hazel eyes. Dean, likewise, stared right back into Alastair's, looking into the pupils which very much resembled the demon's own soul -– pitch black and cold.

Suddenly, there came another voice, which broke Dean's mental barrier. At first it came out a dimmed murmur, the hunter unable to clearly make out what was being stated. Still, it persisted until Dean could hear it plain as day. "Dean!" came the bellowing voice of the younger Winchester.

Dean searched the room frantically, looking for wherever nook or cranny Sam might be hiding in. His attention was then drawn back to Alastair, who still smiled contently regardless the circumstances. Silently, he raised a finger to his lips, urging Dean to say quiet –- guard the secret of his arrival, if you will. "Shhh," he soothed.

"Dean!" Sammy's voice shouted again, this time louder than before. Dean gasped, his eyes flashing open. Recklessly, he shot up out of bed, panting heavily as light beads of sweat rolled down his temple. It was all a dream, just a dream, Dean thought to himself. Sam, meanwhile, was on the edge of his brother's bed clasping his shoulders firmly. A combination of concern and hysteria merged within his eyes, slowly settling back to semi-normality. "Dude, what the hell happened?"

But that was just it, hell had happened, hadn't it? Well, perhaps not but –- Dean couldn't shake the empty feeling that rested in the pit of his stomach. Something was most definitely off here. He shouldn't have been dreaming of Alastair, he'd finally reached the stage where he was, for the most part, over the nightmares of hell and onto acceptance of pure nothingness. No dreams, no nightmares, just black – for the entire night too. Not only that, but Dean found himself somewhat more rested than he had before the time when he still actually dreamt. And he most certainly was more rested than when all he could see was hell when his eyes closed. Never the less, something had tipped the balance within him and Dean wasn't about to let his little brother see it. "It was... just a dream," he sputtered finally.

Dean could almost immediately feel Sam's muscles relax, his brother loosening the grip he held on his arms. "Did you, well, wanna talk about it?" Sam asked hesitantly after a moment. He looked up at Dean with his large and oval puppy dog eyes, making Dean almost indefinitely want to tell Sammy everything.

But still, he couldn't. It wasn't worth getting Sam all worked up over nothing. Dean rubbed his eyes wearily, letting out an exasperated sigh. "What is there to tell really?" he chuckled somewhat, "It was a nightmare, and it was Hell."

"Literally?" Sam urged.

Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment, images of Alastair flashing before him. Reopening them, he avoided eye contact with his brother. He cleared his throat before responding quietly, "Literally."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had been on edge the entire day, and Sam had definitely taken notice. Every so often, when he thought Dean wasn't paying attention, Sam would throw a concerned glance towards his brother letting out soft sighs as he did so. At last, as a dim blue settled over the darkening landscape, Dean interrupted the thick silence that hung in the air between them. "Man, I'm starving. Wanna stop for a burger?" he asked.

"If by a burger you mean a hotel bed," Sam responded, chuckling somewhat, "then definitely."

Dean rolled his eyes, before turning into the parking lot of the closest motel. It was a one story brick building, a little run down in appearance, but then again they'd seen plenty worse over the years. Dean slowed the Impala to a halt towards the entrance, allowing Sam to collect his belongings and check them in awhile. He, on the other hand, was still hungry and planned on eating before the night was over –- even if that meant eating alone.

Sam stood for a moment and watched as the Impala's red taillights rounded the corner and disappeared into the dusk. Sometimes worrying about Dean became such a burden –- if he'd only open up and speak what was really on his mind. But of course he wouldn't, so there really wasn't any point in trying persuade him otherwise. Sam slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder, before making for the doorway. After receiving his key, he slowly strode down the narrow hallway until coming to the designated motel room. Within a few seconds of being inside the door his cell phone rang, a familiar angel on the other line. "Castiel?" Sam asked, surprised that Cas was indeed calling him.

"Sam," Castiel cleared his throat, "where are you?"

Sam mumbled quizzically, "Uh, Peoria Illinois."

"Is Dean with you?" Cas continued.

"No, he went out to eat," Sam replied wearily.

"I see –- that's probably best for the moment. I'll be there immediately."

"Cas wait, what's going–-," Sam tried to ask, still confused, but was only left with a dial tone.

In a split second, there was a panic sounding knock at the motel door. Sam went to retrieve the visitor, only now actually getting to put his phone back in his pocket. "Cas, what the Hell is going on?" he spat, opening the door.

"Oh, Hell is right," an unfamiliar voice retorted. Before Sam stood a young man –- tall and thin, wearing skater's clothes, and most likely not even of voting age. The man flashed his eyes black, signaling his demonism, before continuing onward. "We need to talk Sam, and I don't think we have much time before your little feathered friend gets here."

"What do you want?" Sam asked through clenched teeth, his hands balled into fists.

The demon pushed by the hunter abruptly, examining the motel room as he stepped forth. "Oh, just a fair warning," he replied casually as if discussing the weather, "although, I think your brother would probably find the information more useful." Swiftly he ran a finger over the nearby dusty counter top, looking disgusted as he quickly rubbed the gray lint from his hand.

Sam placed his hands on his hips, still not convinced. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," the demon looked up, matching Sam's gaze, "that's so." There was a ruffling of feathers as the air in the room was disturbed. Castiel stood beside Sam now in an aggressive stance, ready to charge at the demon at any given moment. A wide grin spread across the young man's face, his eyes darkening at the sight of Castiel. "Well hello there, Castiel. Glad that you could join us."

"You have no business here," Castiel stated simply, "you should go –- immediately."

"Look pal, I just came to offer up some advice to my favorite Winchester here," the demon retorted, placing his hands up in a defensive position.

"Go now, I will not ask again," Castiel demanded.

"Cas, he's just one demon, we could take him," Sam hissed under his breath. Frankly, he was getting a little annoyed, seeing as Cas was presuming he couldn't defeat a single demon.

"It's not that Sam," Castiel said, almost as if he had read Sam's thoughts, "this demon –- he's much more powerful than he looks."

The demon was simply delighted in the angel's words. "Wow Castiel," he mused, "I gotta say, Alastair gave you much less credit than I find you deserve."

At these words, both Sam and Castiel stiffened, turning to face one another. Last time either of them had dealt with Alastair, Castiel was still a whipped choir boy, Dean was cutting the demon's guts out with rusty butcher knives, and Sam was all macho hyped on Ruby's blood –- oh yes, fun times.

"You knew Alastair?" Sam broke the silence breathlessly.

"Knew wouldn't exactly be the term I'd use, but if you wanna go with that, then yeah," the demon huffed, taking a seat at the motel's small dining table.

Sam continued, "So who are you then?" Ever so slowly, he began to make his way over to the table as well.

"They call me Valac –- pretty big name downstairs," the demon smiled widely, taking pleasure in his own title, "and you know, it never ceases to please, appearing in this young a body. You people expect some stud to come in here half-cocked when instead you get this long drink of water, who just got a little caught up in satanic rituals."

Sam now pulled out a chair from the table, gradually slipping onto its seat, Castiel mimicking his action on another nearby chair. "How did you know Alastair?"

Valac licked his lips awkwardly, fidgeting with the dark nail polish covering his host's fingernails. "Let's just say getting big in Hell takes time. Even time wishing you were never born –- or dead, in this case," he chuckled somewhat.

"You were tortured by Alastair," Castiel stated simply, his eyes intently focused on the demon before him. A slight reflection of Dean ran through his mind as he overlooked not just the host's appearance, but Valac's very soul.

"Yeah, thanks for that, Captain Obvious," Valac snapped sarcastically.

Sam decided to switch topics, relieving any room for tension to build between the two opposing forces. "I take it you don't come bringing any tidings of good joy for us, huh?"

"Like I'd ever," Valac openly laughed, brushing the shaggy hair from his eyes, "a few days back, I was in the pit, and it wasn't so bad. I mean, Hell is Hell, but this wasn't the worst it's ever been. At any rate, all of a sudden, this overwhelming feeling came over me to escape –- not just for the sake of escaping Hell, but escaping him."

"Alastair?" Sam asked, although it was more of a statement.

"I kid you not, Sam Winchester, we demons don't fear many things now that the apocalypse has started and all. But the one thing we never overcome, is our torturers –- they become like a sixth sense to us. We can feel their presence, even when they're nowhere near to our corner of hell. So believe me when I say I think our old pal is back from the grave," Valac said, leaning in close to the hunter, his eyes never leaving Sam's face.

Sam searched Valac intently, before leaning back in his own seat. "How do I know you're not just yanking my chain? I mean, the last time I trusted a demon I brought Hell to all creation," Sam sneered.

Valac's face fell flat as Sam's words. "And whose fault is that?" he asked bitterly, "Look, trust me or don't trust me, it's just your brother's neck I'm trying to save here." With that Valac arose abruptly, making for the door with an aggravated sigh.

"Wait, wait," Sam pleaded, quickly making his way over to the demon, "I'm sorry, it's just not easy to overcome that trust thing, you know? How could it even be possible for Alastair to be alive?"

Valac turned back to face Sam. He responded, "That's not my concern. What I do know, is that Dean Winchester was his favorite –- his absolute favorite. Not I, nor any demon or human alike, could surpass the desire he held for Dean. He had big plans for your brother. Plans that were interrupted when a certain angel pulled his punk ass outta there." Valac directed a nod in Castiel's direction.

Castiel came a little closer to the demon, confusion furrowing upon his brow. "What exactly do you propose we do about it?"

"Honestly, I couldn't give two shits," Valac retorted, "Just run, that's all I can say. Don't stand by and fight, and don't try to be a hero for the sake of the cause or whatever. If the angels really want to keep your brother alive, well they better get it in gear. Cause if Alastair has his way, you'll never see your brother again –- whether he's still on earth, or back in Hell."

Sam swallowed hard –- he couldn't let that happen to Dean, not again. There was absolutely no way he way gonna let Dean be taken back to the pit, especially by Alastair. Coming back from his own thoughts, he watched as Valac turned away from him and back towards the door once more. "Wait, where are you going?"

This time Valac didn't turn back, but glanced over his shoulder as he gave his response. "Anywhere. I gotta keep on the move -– any scum up here is far better than being trapped in the pit. I'll be in touch with Dean soon, somehow I think he'll need the encouragement." And with that, the demon stepped out of the archway, slamming the door shut behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean sat in the far corner of a roadside restaurant that appeared to not have been renovated since the late 50s -– complete with checkered floor tile, photographs of Elvis, and an ever colorful jukebox. Still the warm atmosphere that Dean normally would've enjoyed, did little to raise his spirits on this particular evening. Thoughts of his nightmare -– of Alastair -- still flooded his head, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being stalked like helpless prey. Dean's head constantly turned in every direction, scouting out the entire room as well as the twilight outdoors. Damn, Dean mentally beat himself, I should've stayed with Sam and ordered in.

Suddenly a middle aged waitress appeared at his table -– she had a larger build and was tall due to massive black heels she was wearing. Gently sliding Dean's plate of food onto the table, she placed her hands back on her hips snapping her bubblegum loudly. Dean, who had been off in a land far, far way, jumped at the sudden noise startling the waitress in return. “Well jeez honey, calm down it's only me, not the bride of Frankenstein or nothing,” she laughed.

Dean gave her a nervous smile before he watched her strut away and back into the kitchen. Pinching the brim of his nose, Dean let out a long drawn sigh prior to diving in to the delicious looking meal which sat front of him. Picking up the burger first, he bit down on the soft bread, only to have to the delectable flavors of tender beef, crispy bacon, juicy tomato, lettuce, and mayonnaise fill his mouth. He murmured contently chewing the luscious food before swallowing in a large gulp. Just as he was beginning to feel less tense, another image of Alastair flashed before him, and Dean had suddenly lost his appetite. Now feeling the food churn uncomfortably in his stomach, Dean pushed his plate slightly away from him, gagging somewhat.

Resting his elbows on the table, Dean laid his head in his hands, feeling tiny beads of sweat beginning to accumulate on his forehead. His breath was shaky as his chest inhaled deeply and exhaled. Unexpectedly, the leather of the seat across from him crinkled, indicating that another body had just joined him at the table. “Good choice of food here, Deano,” a chilling voice hissed, “I hear the fries are just to die for.”

Dean could feel his body temperature slowly rising even as a wave of icy anxiety swept over him. For a moment he refused to raise his eyes from the table's shiny finish, waiting for a split second until he could get his bearings. “So how'd you find me?” he asked after a moment, hoping that his voice came out sounding stronger than he felt.

“Mmm,” Alastair purred loudly as he took a bite out of one of Dean's fries, which caused the hunter to squirm uncomfortably in his seat, “you must excuse me Dean, but you know we don’t get this kind of treatment downstairs.” A wide beam spread across Alastair's lips as Dean instinctively shuddered.

Contently he sat across from the hunter, taking yet another bite out of the golden fry. Dean could feel rage burning in his veins at his old mentor's game. “I'll ask you again, how the Hell did you find me?”

“Oh, but that's the problem Dean, I didn't find you. Not really anyway,” the ever powerful demon sighed, tapping his fingers against the tabletop, “See it's a nice diner here, it really is, but it's just a place. I'm not actually here with you as I should be.”

Realization finally dawned on Dean as he reasoned this was all a dream – now that he thought about it, he had recalled feeling pretty tired when he came into this joint. “So what's the point, huh?” Dean pondered, feeling much more confident now that he knew this was all in his head, “You take a little walk in my head and figure out where I am? Just like that?” Dean snapped his fingers for emphasis.

Alastair replied flatly, “Unfortunately not.” The demon growled in irritation as Dean smiled a satisfactory grin, as if he had already known what Alastair's response would be. “See,” Alastair panted as he leaned in closer towards Dean, “If it were that easy, I would've already found you. And remember Dean, when I do, you are mine.”

Dean glanced down towards the floor, unable to face his opposing colleague any longer. A new fear pumped through him as he felt Alastair's steamy breath against his cheek. All this –- it seemed so real that suddenly Dean was quite thankful that Alastair could not find him through his dreams. Thankful that Dean could keep on the move to be safe, if only for a while longer.

Suddenly Dean jolted, awaking in a nervous panic. He scoped the nearby area -– same diner, same everything. Except for Alastair, of course. Dean sighed in relief, Alastair's words still ringing in his head as he attempted to get his bearings. And remember Dean, when I do, you are mine. Chills flew down Dean's spine at the thought of it. Just to have the demon haunting his dreams again was nearly driving him mad, and so he could only imagine what it would be like seeing Alastair face to face again.

“You doin' okay, honey?” the waitress asked, a look of concern upon her face. Dean ran a hand through his hair before offering her a silent nod in response. “How about trying some of this nice strong coffee, hmm? It'll pick ya right up.”

Dean watched the rich murky liquid spill into the plain white cup, slightly smiling his thanks to the waitress as she placed the cup in front of him. Silently she turned from him, continuing to serve others in the restaurant. Dean curled his hands around the mug, warmth emulating into his skin as he did so. Lifting the mug towards his lips, he was just about to take a sip when his phone rang. Dean jerked, startled, nearly spilling the steaming coffee in his lap. He dug into his pocket until he managed to retrieve his cell phone, before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Hello?” he asked irritation emphasized in his tone.

“Hey,” Sam said on the end, sensing the tension in his brother's voice, “You've been gone a while, I just wanted to make sure things were going okay.”

“Oh, things are just peachy Sam,” Dean snapped sarcastically.

Sam stayed silent for a moment, slightly taken aback by Dean's words. “Dude, what's your problem?” he retorted after some time.

Dean sighed, pinching the brim of his nose. “I didn't mean that,” he apologized, “look, I'll be back soon. I just got a bit caught up.”

Sam furrowed his brow in curiosity. “Caught up in what?”

“Thoughts –- dreams,” Dean replied wearily, his voice distant as if he were off somewhere else.

Looking down towards the floor, Sam debated his response. “Are you thinking about Hell, or that dream you had last night?” he asked solemnly, “Cause if you are, Dean, you can talk–,”

“Sam it's fine,” Dean interrupted his brother abruptly, “You know what, just forget it.”

Sam pleaded, “Dean,”

“No really, it's just –- it's okay. I'll be back soon, don't wait up,” Dean cleared his throat, his voice now stern and domineering.

Sam felt his heart wretch at Dean's unwillingness to share what was going on in his head. “Alright, see you then,” he said finally, after swallowing a hard lump in his throat.

Dean at last took a long drink of the coffee, letting out a refreshed sigh after doing so. He raised his hand prior to snapping his fingers, indicating to the waitress that he was ready to finally place an order. “Well that did the trick, didn't it?” she laughed, nodding towards the half empty coffee mug, “What can I get for you?”

Quickly she whipped out a small yellow colored tablet and a pen from behind her ear. “What can you tell me about the pie?” Dean smiled widely, his stomach making small gurgles in anticipation.

\--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was about eleven o'clock when the Impala finally pulled back into the parking lot of the motel –- Dean had left around seven. Slamming the car door behind him, Dean staggered somewhat from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, which was only now beginning to wear off.

Dean wasn't in the door for more than ten seconds before Sam jumped up from the motel's worn loveseat and began to harass his brother. “Dean, where have you been?!” Sam hollered.

Sam's tone reminded Dean of a mother that would be yelling at her child for staying out past curfew. He smiled wearily before clearing his throat. “Dude, relax,” Dean muttered, “I stayed at the diner, had a few beers.”

Sam placed his hands on his hips in annoyance. “A few beers?”

Dean folded his jacket over the back of one of the chairs beside the table, feeling irritation growing in the pit of his stomach. “Is there an echo in here?” he snapped, looking up at Sam.

“Hello!” Sam shouted, waving his hands in front of Dean's face, “You were gone for four hours, Dean! Ever here of a phone call? That's why Bell invented the damn thing!”

Dean's eyes darted around the room, as if the answer to his next question was painted against the walls. “Who?” Dean asked, now confused at the direction Sam was taking this conversation.

Sam sighed, “Alexander Graham Bell, an inventor in –- hey, don't change the subject!”

Dean wanted to burst out laughing at how ridiculously out of proportion Sam was reacting. The more and more he yelled, the more and more Dean determined his brother should've been born a woman –- a nagging woman, yes, but still a female never the less. “I don't get what the big deal here is,” Dean defended himself, “So I stayed out a little late, what is that a crime now? Hell, there have been nights where I haven't come back at all Sam!”

“I know Dean, but -– this time is different,” Sam sighed once more, nearly admitting defeat in this argument.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his weight to one side of his body. “Hey, didn't I tell you not to wait up?” he decided to change the subject, feeling victory over baby Sammy within his grasp.

But now it was Sam's turn to be defensive, “Well I would've gone to bed, but Cas said he was bored.” Once more Sam's tone simply amazed Dean, only this time he sounded more like a whiny five year old.

“I am quite capable of waiting for Dean by myself, Sam,” Castiel cleared his throat, rising from the other cushion of the love seat. Quite frankly, Dean was surprised the angel hadn't spoken sooner.

Sam lifted a hand with one finger pointing upward, as if reciting some great phrase spoken by a great philosopher. “And I quote: Sam, are you still awake? I need some kind of activity to sustain me until Dean arrives.”

“That's what she said!” Dean burst, laughing at the irony of the words Sam had just spoken. When Sam just looked at Dean in annoyance and Castiel tilted his head in confusion, Dean continued, “It's a –- ugh, never mind. Anyway I'm here, so get to it chuckles.”

Castiel and Sam exchanged hesitant glances, before Castiel decided to continue onward with the discussion of more important matters. “We’ve learned from a reputable source that a new hell spawn has arisen,” the angel stated plainly, trying to be as brief as possible.

“Well great, let’s bring out the holy water and call it a day,” Dean enthused, raising a metal flask bearing a cross design from the inside of his jacket.

Castiel cleared his throat before continuing onward, “That won’t do much good Dean, we’ve been told he’s much more powerful than that.”

Placing the flask atop the table, Dean’s eyes darted between Sam and Castiel sensing their unwillingness to share the full story. “Who’d you say told you this?” he asked, licking his lips delicately.

“I didn’t,” Castiel looked away from the hunter, fidgeting with his fingernails all the while.

“Well then,” Dean said sternly, taking a step closer to Castiel, “Guess you’d better do that.”

Sam interrupted, “His name is Valac.”

Castiel threw Sam a grateful look –- he didn’t really work well under pressure. Especially when it was Dean breathing down his neck. “Okay, Valac,” Dean mused, taking a step away from Castiel to begin pacing the floor, “Valac what? Valac the hunter, Valac the clown? I’m gonna need a little bit more to run on here!”

Sam didn’t say anything, but stood quietly debating his answer. “Valac is a demon,” Castiel said finally. Sam glanced up at him in disbelief with a if you weren’t an angel I would totally beat you right now expression.

Dean just shook his head solemnly, biting his bottom lip. For a moment a thick and silent tension clung in the air, until the eldest Winchester finally spoke. “So we’re trusting demons again, are we?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam let out a soft sigh –- somehow he knew that was going to be Dean’s reaction, he absolutely knew it. “Dean,” he began.

“No, Sam,” Dean interrupted sternly, “I get it. You still haven’t gotten the idea that they’re demons and demons lie.”

Sam could feel color beginning to burn in his cheeks out of growing aggravation at Dean’s words –- he was treating him like a little child who didn’t know up from down, and it was really beginning to piss him off. Sam tried to defend his position, “No Dean, that’s not it at all.”

“Then please, enlightened me Sam! Tell me what could possibly make this demon different from any other scumbag!” Dean hollered, marching over towards his brother.

Quickly Castiel stepped in between the two hunters, pushing Dean ever so slightly away from Sam. “Dean, you’re not giving Sam a chance to explain. This demon truly was different, even I could see it,” the angel urged.

Dean stopped in his tracks, staring down into Castiel’s deep and sparkling cerulean eyes. Gradually, Sam could see Dean’s jaw line loosen as he relaxed, as if Castiel had mentally soothed him somehow. At last Dean broke their longing stare turning back to face Sam. “So?” was all he said, still an impatient ring to his tone.

“Valac said that it took time to make a name in hell –- time spent on the rack,” Sam murmured, his voice barely grazing a whisper.

Dean’s eyes looked down in dismay, the hunter clearing his throat, “Oh, fascinating.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam continued awkwardly, careful of his choice of words that followed, “he also said that his tormentor –- he was tortured by Alastair.”

All of the muscles throughout his body clammed up at even the mention of his old master’s name, as shivers echoed through Dean’s body. Suddenly the realization dawned on the hunter of just what his brother was trying to convey. “No,” Dean said firmly –- on simple word expressing his whole mindset on the situation.

“It’s true Dean,” Castiel sympathized, “I know it must be difficult to understand but–,”

“Difficult to understand?” Dean spat abruptly, “You have no idea, Cas! You know what? I don’t have to deal with this.” With that, Dean grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the chair and quickly slipped it over his torso.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sam asked, placing a hand firmly on Dean’s forearm.

Dean shook it off roughly, looking at Sam with a bitter gaze. At this point it wasn’t so much about being angry at Sam as it was having blind fury. “Out,” he muttered blandly, making for the motel room door.

“Dean, it’s 11:30 at night!” Sam hollered after him, “And if Alastair is out there, this could be just the opportunity he’s waiting for!”

Dean said nothing to defend his position simply stating firmly and hardheartedly, “If I still find you up when I get back, there’s gonna be Hell to pay –- Alastair or no Alastair.”

As the door slammed shut, Sam quickly strode over to it ready to bring Dean back, even if it meant by knocking him out. Castiel, however, was quickly there in front of him preventing Sam from making his heated escape. “Out of the way, Cas,” Sam commanded in exasperation.

“No, Sam,” Castiel retorted with authority, “he needs time alone.”

Sam rolled his eyes desperately. “Alastair could be just around that corner!” He directed his arm toward the window and whatever laid beyond for emphasis.

“Somehow I doubt it,” Castiel replied coolly.

“But–,” Sam was about to argue when Castiel cut him off.

“Even so, you know Dean better than anyone –- he needs to get out and clear his mind,” Castiel urged, hoping that his point was finally beginning to sink into the younger Winchester’s head.

Victory appeared to be the angel’s as Sam let out a long drawn sigh and directed his gaze towards the floor. “I guess you’re right,” Sam muttered.

Castiel felt a slight weight taken off of his shoulders, seeing as there could now be some peace –- if only for a short while. In attempts to aid Sam’s still ever present concern, Castiel continued, “Besides, Valac did say he’d be in touch. Perhaps this is more his opportunity, rather than Alastair’s.”

Sam glanced up at the angel once more, as if seeing his long lost point at last. “Thanks Cas,” Sam said after a pause, a slight grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, “I guess we’d better get some rest. Don’t want Dean all pissed off when he gets back.”

With that, Sam turned towards his bed once more, stripping himself down to his boxers and t-shirt. Castiel, on the other hand, placed a hand solemnly on the table letting out a soft sigh. “You go ahead,” he murmured, “I think I’ll just sit here quietly for the time being.”

Sam stopped mid-way from pulling the comforter partially down the mattress, eyeing the angel suspiciously. “You sure?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes, you should sleep though,” Castiel reassured him, locking on a steady gaze to Sam’s.

“Alright then,” Sam cleared his throat, “goodnight, Cas.”

“Sleep well, Sam,” Castiel uttered faintly, slowly taking a seat at the motel table. As Sam crawled under the covers of his bed, he flicked off the nearby switch and all was dark.

Castiel sat contently, his hands clasped together and resting in front of him on the table’s top. His eyes nearly immediately began to adjust to the newly shaded room, outlines of familiar shapes becoming visible. He could hear Sam’s steady breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply as the air slipped in and out of the hunter’s lungs. Still his mind wondered to Dean, hoping that the eldest Winchester would come to see the sense of the situation and finally open up at least somewhat about his hell experience. Sure, Castiel had pulled him from the pit of flames and ash, but he only knew the last chapter of the story. There was still much more to the tale, however, that the angel wished to gain the knowledge of. He just hoped that Dean would be willing to share this information –- not only hoped, but actually prayed. For the first time in a long time.

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Dean strutted down the sidewalk of the nearby shopping district which wasn’t too far away from the motel. Despite it being pretty late into the evening, neon lights still flashed from some store windows, cars busily traveling up and down the road. The chilled night air was beginning to soothe Dean, his nerves still on the edge for the most part. Sighing wearily, Dean made a sharp left turn down an abandoned looking street, not entirely certain where it was he planned on walking to.

He got about mid-way down the street, when a rusty street lamp above him began to flicker randomly. Ever muscles tensed in the hunter’s body and he froze, waiting for any further signs to confirm his suspicions. At first all remained calm, but then a few other nearby lights began to sputter until one finally burst. With a shattering crack, glass came pouring down from a street light just down the road from where Dean stood. He swallowed hard, waiting anxiously to see the demon which was responsible for such an electrical disruption.

“Hello, Dean,” a young, higher pitched voice echoed from behind the hunter, “A little late for a walk, isn’t it?” Slowly Dean turned, facing what appeared to be a teenager. The boy smiled smugly, flashing his eyes black before quickly switching them back to their human state.

Dean cleared his throat, “Let me guess, Valac?” Not facing the demon completely, Dean gradually began to slip his hand inside his jacket, reaching for his flask of holy water.

“I would imagine Sam told you all about me,” Valac said casually, picking at his fingernails as he spoke, “I wouldn’t go reaching for that holy water just yet though.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, waiting for the demon to continue onward but he didn’t. So, he went ahead and reached inside his jacket, this time pulling out a much smaller flask which contained whiskey. “Gotta have a little something to sustain me,” Dean remarked sarcastically taking a long swig.

Valac smiled at Dean’s statement, taking a few steps closer to the hunter. “Dean, Dean, Dean –- I gotta say, meeting you’s a real treat,” Valac snickered, digging his hands deep inside the pockets of his jeans.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked, his voice coming out gruffer than he would’ve liked, “And why is that?”

“You were the one raised from the pit,” Valac flashed in hands in sarcastic elaboration, “A brave and unrelenting hunter who actually has a sense of humor. Truth be told, I’m impressed.”

Dean felt a strange sense of pride swell up inside of him ever so slightly –- did a demon really just compliment him? Well, there’s always a first for everything. Still, he wasn’t about to let his guard down over a few silly praises. “I take it you gotta a point in all this?” he asked, but it was more of a direct statement.

“Well what with the way Alastair described you, ruthless –- a cold blooded torturer, I expected so much less. But you, you’ve got a bit of a friendly edge which is a relief after all I’ve heard,” Valac leaned against the pole of the street lamp deviously, awaiting Dean’s next actions.

All the muscles in Dean’s body went stiff at Valac’s remark, a new aggravation beginning to bubble up inside the hunter. Licking his lips delicately, Dean turned to face the demon full on. “Look pal, either you cut to the chase or they’re gonna be serving you extra crispy back down in the pit,” he threatened, taking a step closer to Valac.

Valac smiled in amusement as Dean’s naivety –- he obviously had no clue just what Valac was capable of. “Oh I highly doubt that,” Valac chuckled, waving his hand at Dean casually. Dean grunted as his body was flown across the sidewalk, smacking onto the side of a nearby brick building. For a moment he struggled, attempting to pull himself free, but it was no use. Valac’s grip was much stronger than Dean had anticipated. “Now listen here, you macho dick,” Valac’s tone was harsh and cold as he approached Dean, “I don’t have to lift a finger to help you, I choose to. Now shut up and listen or you’ll be the one whose back in the pit –- and not by my hand either. And I don’t think you want that, now do you?”

Dean’s upper lip quivered slightly as both fear and fury quaked through him. Valac’s words wrapped around his mind for a moment –- You’ll be the one whose back in the pit, and not by my hand either. An image of Alastair flashed in the hunter’s mind for only a brief second, which of course still shook his very foundation. Clearing his throat, Dean responded bitterly, “Alright, I’m listening.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sam awoke suddenly as the bedside clock began to blare some kind of country hick music. Disgusted, Sam slammed down the off button, rubbing his eyes wearily. He sighed softly, feeling quite content with himself as the golden light warmed his back even through the curtains. Glancing towards Dean’s bed, he was quite surprised that it was neatly made as if the sheets had never been disturbed. Did he ever come back? Sam thought in panic. Hurriedly, he threw the covers off his giraffe legs and arose from the mattress.

“Good morning, Sam,” Castiel said gruffly, still seated at the kitchen table.

Sam eyed the angel suspiciously, gradually making his way over to the table. “Cas, did you sit there all night?” he yawned, taking a seat across from Castiel.

“Yes,” Castiel admitted, looking down at his hands, which were folded in his lap, almost shamefully. “I was waiting for Dean so that we could talk, but he never came back,” Cas continued.

“Cas, you know you could’ve done something else. Right?” Sam chuckled, rubbing his face to wake himself up, “What did you want to talk to Dean about anyway?”

Delicate ocean deep eyes glanced up at the youngest Winchester, an almost horror filled expression covering his face. Feeling bright pink flush to his cheeks, Castiel looked downward suddenly unable to hold Sam’s gaze. “I’ve had bothersome emotions in the past, doubt and such,” he cleared his throat, trying to settle his heart rate deep within his chest, “I’ve been experiencing them again as of late, this time more and more often.”

Sam took a few steps closer to where Castiel was seated, pulling out one of the provided chairs to sit beside the angel. “If you’re having conflicting emotions, I’m here to listen too. You know that Cas,” Sam assured, smiling his goofy, lopsided grin.

Castiel dared to look upon Sam once more, his eyes darting back down towards his hands which sat neatly in his lap. His voice was hushed, barely a whisper, coming out gruffer than he would’ve liked, “I don’t think you would understand.”

Sam snickered somewhat, leaning back casually against his chair. “Oh yeah, try me,” he insisted, “There’s not too much I haven’t been faced with there, Cas.”

The angel gulped loudly, his hands beginning to tremble regardless of how much he willed them not to. “Have you ever had such emotions for someone buried deep inside, and you weren’t certain of how to disclose them?” he asked sheepishly.

Suddenly Sam hunched forward, resting his hands atop the table. “Honestly, I can’t say that I have. Most of my relationships have been once and done, no having to confess anything,” he admitted in surprise –- more or less surprise that Castiel was indeed asking him this, not so much at his own experiences.

“Then I think my point is made,” Castiel cleared his throat, looking at Sam dead on.

Sam suddenly felt very small beneath the angel’s gaze –- what exactly was he getting at here? The younger Winchester opened his mouth as if about to speak, when the door to the motel opened and Dean stumbled in. He looked tired, but not drunk thankfully. His expression was cold, blank and difficult to read. Then unexpectedly, Valac followed behind him, appearing relaxed and casual as ever. Almost instantly Castiel was at his feat, aggressive and prepared to fight need be. “Relax dude, he’s with me,” Dean reassured him, patting the angel lightly on the shoulder as he walked past.

Making for one of the motel beds, Dean flopped down not even bothering to remove his jacket or boots. “So you brought home the demon?” Sam arched his eyebrow in confusion.

“Mhmm,” Dean mumbled through a mouthful of sheets, he was deadbeat tired. Try having a demon yapping your ear off all night and see how you feel in the morning!

Sam snorted somewhat, placing his hands on his hips in agitation, “After all that crap you gave me and Cas last night?”

“Oh don’t even start with me!” Dean retorted, “He offered me a good point. Doesn’t mean I trust him.”

“That much is obvious,” Valac interrupted their argument, striding over towards the refrigerator, “You didn’t even offer me a beer.” Pulling a chilled bottle from the shelf, Valac held it up to the light, eyeing it suspiciously. “You haven’t holified this, have you?” he asked, an almost disgusted expression upon his face.

“Uh, no,” Sam replied flatly.

Valac’s eyes almost lit up the minute Sam said so. He exclaimed, “Good! You know how long it’s been since I had a nice cold one?” With that, he twisted off the cap, guzzling down the refreshing alcohol like it was nobody’s business.

Castiel almost glared at the demon before returning his gaze to Dean who still lay sprawled out on the nearby bed. “What is it you discussed?” he pondered aloud.

Silently, Dean raised his arm, pointing a single finger in Valac’s direction. “Ask him,” were the only two muffled words which emerged from the hunter’s mouth.

“Of course,” Valac sighed wearily, pulling out a chair to sit in. Leaning back somewhat, the demon propped his feet atop the table, catching another sip of his beer before continuing onward, “I was basically explaining to Dean here the potential risks if our old buddy Alastair is back from the pit. He’s gonna be searching for him, and it’s only a matter of time before he locks onto his location and begins tracking him down.”

Sam’s brow creased in concern as he pinched the brim of his nose in exasperation. “Okay, so what can we do about it?” he asked after a pause.

“Well, I know someone, a psychic. She goes by Lauren Vagrant,” Valac explained, chugging the last remnants of his beer before slamming the empty bottle down on the table.

Sam questioned, “Okay, so how can she help?”

“Lauren’s got good connections on the other side –- both Heaven and Hell. I have a feeling that if something is going down then she can fill us in on what’s being said. Not only that, but she may even be able to find the grimy bastard before he finds us,” Valac chuckled somewhat as he spoke.

“Great, where does she live?” Sam’s eyes lit up in enthusiasm.

“Not too far from Fort Pierre, South Dakota,” the demon replied simply, “Quite honestly, I’m sorta surprised your friend Singer hasn’t heard of her, seeing as they live pretty close and all.”

Sam stroked his chin in though. He mused, “Hmm, that is a good point.”

“How do you know her?” Castiel inquired, speaking up suddenly. His expression was grim, his arms folded tightly over his chest.

Valac pouted somewhat, crossing his arms in order to mock the angel before him. “Now what’s the magic word there, Mr. Grumpypants?”

Sam snickered somewhat, clearing his throat awkwardly when Castiel glared at him. “Please,” Castiel muttered, his tone still very stern.

“Eh, you could’ve asked nicer. Anyway her and I, how can you say, have a history. I’ve saved her ass, she’s saved mine,” Valac responded blandly, picking at his fingernails.

“Are you sure you don’t mean grabbed her ass?” Dean suddenly called out from the bed where he still lay.

Valac laughed openly at the hunter’s statement, taking a moment before clearing his throat. He mumbled in amusement, “No, not quite my friend.”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably where he stood at how casually Valac seemed to refer to Dean as a friend, an ally –- Dean clearly stated that he didn’t trust the demon, and so that should be sufficient for understanding on Valac’s part. Sam meanwhile stood up from the table, walking over to his bed to collect his clothes to change into for the day. “You said she was a psychic?” he asked, routing through his duffle all the while, “How ‘bout a hunter?”

“Eh, somewhat,” Valac said, arising to stretch his joints and crack his knuckles, “She knows how to protect herself, but Lauren’s not going to go after something without good cause. Unless a demon or spirit or whatever has specifically come for her, she’s likely to remain neutral.”

Sam nodded silently, collecting his clothes before making for the bathroom door. “Well, I’m gonna get outta these,” he said, glancing downward at his pajamas, “and then I guess we can hit the road.”

“Already?!” Dean spat groggily.

“Hey, I’ll drive!” Valac popped up, instantly volunteering.

Ever slowly Dean turned from his facedown position, glaring at the demon somewhat as he spoke. “Hell. No.”

Sam sighed rolling his eyes. “Dude, I’ll drive. Don’t even worry about it,” he muttered slipping away into the confinements of the bathroom.

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The Impala rumbled speedily up the roads of Iowa, making for the Minnesota state line. The way Sam had figured it, they would head close to Rochester, before turning left until hitting Sioux Falls. Out of the entire ride, which was nearly nine hours by the way, they’d been traveling for just about four a steady tension building in the back seat.

Sam of course was driving, Dean had settled into a deep sleep over in the passenger seat, and both angel and demon tried to sit as far away from each other as possible. At first, Valac had been just fine having to sit next to Castiel, slouching and chilling like it was any ordinary ride. But then, slowly but surely, a certain agitation seemed to emulate from Castiel making them both stone cold serious. It was a little bit more than Sam could stand – sighing wearily, he decided to turn right at the next traffic light and head into a nearby Starbucks.

Valac beamed widely as they pulled into a parking lot, already sitting up in his seat. “Alright, nothin’ like a little coffee to get you on a sugar rush!” he exclaimed.

Sam shook his head, a lop side grin upon his face. Reaching a hand over into the passenger seat, he tapped Dean gently on his forearm. “Dean, wake up,” he called.

“Yeah Dean, wake up,” a peculiar voice rang in his head as the hunter awoke. His eyes jerked open, rising up from his seat rather quickly. Sam’s brow furrowed somewhat, seeing the light sweat which had collected on Dean’s face. “You okay?”

Dean rubbed his eyes, pinching the brim of his nose in exhaustion. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, looking up through the windshield to see the Starbucks sign staring his right in the face, “Good we stopped, I gotta take a leak.”

The four men piled out of the vehicle, the doors shrieking loudly as they were slammed shut once more. As soon as they entered the café Dean made for the restroom, Sam and Valac entered the line to place their orders, and Castiel simply stood there like some kind of stoned moron. Sam glanced up at the menu, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. “Hey, uh, think you could spot me there partner?” Valac asked sheepishly, demonstrating that he indeed had no cash.

Almost immediately Sam responded, “Yeah, don’t worry about it.” It seemed odd that he was getting along so well with the demon who stood beside him –- the two of them just standing around like pals getting a cup of coffee. Talk about strange.

“Good,” Valac chuckled somewhat, “Cause about as broke at the Ten Commandments.”

Castiel gritted his teeth in irritation –- how dare that creature even speak of anything Biblically related? It was blasphemy! Hell spawn stood against everything Castiel believed and moralized. Feeling his heart rate beginning to accelerate, he stormed off in the direction he’d seen Dean go only moments earlier. He still had his fists clenched tightly as he stormed into the bathroom, though he did his best to calm himself not wanting to stir up any trouble.

“Cas?” Dean called from across the room where he stood at a urinal.

Castiel felt the hair on the back of his neck stand almost straight up –- he had almost completely forgotten that Dean would be in here. “Hello Dean,” the angel replied, trying to make his voice sound as casual as possible.

Dean pulled the urinal’s handle, and suddenly a loud whooshing echoed against the solemn tile. Dean took a few steps closer to Castiel’s location, placing his hands under the automatic faucet. Warm water soon flourished over the hunter’s skin and he had to raise his voice somewhat in order for Castiel to be able to hear him properly. “Dude, what’s the matter?” he asked, watching Castiel suspiciously in the mirror.

Cas turned to face Dean, leaning wearily against the nearby counter. “Nothing, why do you ask?” he replied, though he knew Dean could see right through his words.

Dean retorted over his shoulder, “Uh, maybe cause you just came busting in here like a man on a mission?” With that, Dean pulled the handle on the paper towel dispenser in which to dry his hands.

The angel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s Valac, his presence irritates me,” Castiel said at last, after a long drawn pause.

“I can see that,” Dean chuckled somewhat, straightening out his shirt before placing his hands on his hips. Castiel’s blue eyes locked with Dean’s and suddenly the angel felt the need to look away, color beginning to flourish to his cheeks. “So you okay?” Dean continued, seeing at Cas’s sudden break of eye contact.

“I’ll be fine, I should think,” Castiel replied rather hastily.

“Okay,” Dean sighed under his breath. With that, he patted Castiel roughly on the shoulder as he brushed past the angel. Castiel could hardly move for a moment, taking some time to simply inhale the air now affected with his hunter’s luscious scent. Closing his eyes, Castiel breathed deeply before finally turning to leave the restroom himself.

Returning to the main lobby, Dean found both Sam and Valac nestled at a mahogany colored table towards the corner. “I heard of girls going to the bathroom together, but you? Really Dean?” Valac chuckled, lifting his cup to sip from his caramel macchiato.

“Oh, you’re hilarious,” Dean mumbled, pulling his own wallet from his pocket. Castiel soon joined the group, standing in a soldier-like manner beside Dean. It was amazing sometimes at how obedient the little angel appeared to be. Glancing in Castiel’s direction, Dean asked, “You want something Cas?”

Castiel shook his head almost instantly, not even needing to think twice. “No, thank you,” was all he muttered.

Dean shrugged, making for the counter in which to order his drink. Castiel, meanwhile, took a seat beside Sam on the far side of the table from Valac. He remained silent, watching as the two sipped at their beverages contently. Sam had pulled out what looked like a little book of crosswords and other puzzles, vigorously marking away with a small black pen.

Slamming his cup down rather loudly, Valac suddenly busted out, “Speak of the devil!”

Castiel could feel his muscles tighten at the demon’s words. “Where?” he demanded, rising abruptly from his seat.

“No, not literally, you idiot,” Valac scorned, “its Lauren.” With that, he scooted his chair out quickly making for the entrance of the café. “Lauren!” he shouted, getting the woman’s attention, “Lauren, hey it’s Valac.”

Lauren’s bright blue eyes widened in surprise as she overlooked the demon’s body. “Wow, you look so different,” she murmured quietly, a smile spreading quickly across her face.

Valac chuckled somewhat, “What can I say? Needed a change in body. Come, sit with us!” Lauren nodded silently, following closely behind Valac as he led her back to the table. “Hey guys, this is Lauren. Remember, I told you about her?”

Castiel eyed the woman almost suspiciously –- she looked different than what he had anticipated. Instead of being a middle-aged woman like he had supposed, she appeared to be only in her mid twenties with rich dark hair, which curved inward towards her neck, and was cut close to the head. Her eyes were radiant with passion and light, a bright pearly smile to match. Keeping her hands clasped neatly in front of her, she eyed Castiel with good authority.

Suddenly Dean appeared before them, holding a black cup of coffee in hand. “Who’s this?” he asked, lifting the cup to his lips in order to retrieve a taste of the luscious blend.

“This is Lauren. Lauren, meet Dean, Sam, and Castiel,” Valac replied, pointing a hand in the direction of his colleagues.

Dean smiled a lop sided grin taking a seat next to where Castiel had been sitting. Lauren seemed to have gaze fixated on Castiel for some odd reason, a sort of tension forming between the two. “Castiel –- what an interesting name,” she said quietly, slipping down into a chair.

“Angelic,” Castiel retorted in an equally hushed down as he too took a seat.

Breaking their eye contact, Lauren stole a sip of Valac’s macchiato before replying, “I realize.”

Valac’s eyes darted between the two, suddenly feeling a need to add some of his own input. “What are you doing here anyway?” he asked, placing a hand lightly on Lauren’s shoulder in order to grab her attention.

Scratching her head Lauren seemed to relax quickly, lounging back in her chair. “There’s been an awful lot of ruckus upstairs, something about a Starbucks in Waterloo. So I hit the road and boom, here we are,” she said casually, as if discussing something as plain as the weather.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean interrupted, not allowing this conversation to proceed any further, “What do you mean ruckus upstairs?”

“God, or angels, or whatever,” Lauren replied, throwing a nasty glance in Castiel’s direction.

Sam closed his tiny booklet of puzzles for the time being, joining in now that this discussion had actually grown a bit interesting. He questioned “You hear the angels?”

“Occasionally,” Lauren said simply, taking yet another sip from Valac’s drink, “It sorta comes with the whole psychic job description.”

“True, but we met a psychic once who didn’t even know angels existed. It didn’t work out well for her,” Dean retorted blandly.

“Anyway,” Sam cleared his throat, getting back on track, “What exactly did you hear?”

Lauren said, “Like I said, just a whole bunch of nothin’ on an Iowa Starbucks.”

“We were just on our way to see you actually,” Valac added, leaning on one hand which was propped on the table.

“No surprise there,” Lauren smiled, “If you boys are ready to hit the road again, I can lead ya. I know a few short cuts, back roads and such.”

“Honey, back roads are like a middle name to me. Lead the way,” Dean chuckled, arising swiftly from his seat.

The rest followed, Valac staying particularly close to his psychic friend. “Mind if I ride with you?” he asked after a moment, digging his hands deeply into the pockets of his jeans.

“Sure,” Laruen replied simply, smiling broadly at the demon beside her. Dean smiled shaking his head to himself, figuring that Lauren probably drove some sleek little chick car or some kind of shit like that. He was surprised, however, to find a bright red 1980s Ford Pickup sitting in the parking lot, white flames fading into yellow decaled towards the front.

“Whoa,” Dean mumbled under his breath, stopping suddenly in his tracks.

“Yeah,” Lauren bragged somewhat, “She’s a beauty, ain’t she? Had her restored from a salvage yard couple years back.”

Sam arched an eyebrow, asking, “Wouldn’t happen to have been Singer Auto Salvage, by any chance?”

“Exactly!” Lauren exclaimed in amazement, “How’d you know?”

“We know him – Robert Singer,” Sam explained.

“Eh, it’s a small world after all,” Valac chuckled somewhat, opening the passenger door to the bed.

Both Dean and Sam nodded in agreement, heading for the Impala. “Keys, Sammy!” Dean called from the driver’s door. Silently Sam chucked them towards his brother who of course caught them without hassle. All three climbed into the vehicle once more, the engine rumbling to life once more as the keys were placed into the ignition.

Dean twisted the car around slowly out of its parking space, following behind the bulky truck ahead of him. As they made it back onto the main road, he switched on the knob to the stereo blaring some AC/DC. “I’m on the highway to Hell, highway to Hell, highway to–,”

Abruptly Dean switched off the music, clearing his throat as he seemed to be more content in silence. Something about his previous dream –- nightmare -– just made listening to this song a whole lot more difficult than it should be.

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Overall, Lauren’s alternate route provided them arriving to her home about an hour and half early. Dean honestly couldn’t complain, he was just glad to be somewhere where there was certain to be a shower and a place to sleep -- what else could a man want? Well, there was booze, woman, the list continues...

Everyone stumbled out of the vehicles wearily, sort of lingering as they shuffled slowly towards the front door of Lauren’s home. Castiel even looked tired, though he had suggested simply teleporting them about midway through the drive. Lauren twisted the key in the handle of the knob before finally pushing the sturdy door open. As she led them inside, she flicked on a wall side switch, offering a clear lighted view to the surroundings.

Sam smiled contently, looking around to find everything so home-like. They were undoubtedly in the living room, which was decorated with a plain gray sofa and chair, a large flat screen television, stereo, computer –- the works. Lying beyond, separated by a half-wall, Sam guessed was the kitchen which looked as though it was very modernly designed. And of course, there was a stair case located in the far right corner of the room and also a hallway which led further back into a shaded area.

Valac almost immediately plopped down into the chair, clutching the pillow that had been resting on the seat tightly in his arms. Sighing contently, he allowed his eyelids to dip shut looking very much like a kid as he did so. “Make yourself at home,” Lauren chuckled, heading towards the kitchen.

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” Valac muttered happily, propping his feet up on the nearby coffee table.

“Oh, I know I don’t have to tell you,” Lauren smiled, tossing her keys casually onto the counter, “but the same goes for you guys as well, Dean, Sam, Cas.”

Sam glanced downward, finding a small pile of letters laying beside the door where they had presumably been pushed away when first walking in. He crouched down to pick them up, walking over towards Lauren’s location to hand them to her. “Here,” he said in a low tone.

Laruen smiled gratefully at him. “Thanks,” she said, “Let’s see –- junk, bills, bills, bills. Oh gag me.” Sam snickered at how normal her lifestyle appeared to be, despite her being a psychic and all. He debated whether or not to ask her how she seemed to cope with her abilities but decided against it -- now was neither the time nor the place.

Suddenly, amidst the silence, Dean’s stomach grumbled loudly in disruption. He glanced downward at it, looking back up at them sheepishly. “Sorry,” he apologized quietly.

Lauren rolled her eyes lightheartedly, turning towards the refrigerator to fish through it. “Oh no worries, I can whip something up here, if you’ll just give me one second,” she mumbled, searching through the shelves of the cooled appliance, “I hope leftovers are alright.”

“Oh, anything’s fine,” Dean replied, taking a seat awkwardly on the nearby sofa. He certainly wasn’t used to this nice of an environment, nor the kind treatment –- he was actually beginning to take a liking to this woman, in a non-sexual way oddly enough. “So Valac tells us you’ve done some hunting?”

Valac shot him a look stating that he wished Dean hadn’t brought the subject up, but it was a little late now. Lauren, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all as she continued to prepare a delicious meal. “Yeah, it’s not really my thing though. I mean, I used to go all out for it back when I first discovered my talents if you will, but since then the flames have died down,” she explained.

Dean’s eyes flashed around the room quickly, taking in every fine detail as if searching for something specific. He continued, “But you know how to protect yourself? Devils traps and such?”

Sam threw his brother a quizzical glance as he took a seat beside him, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “Of course,” Lauren responded suspiciously, glimpsing quickly at the hunter as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” Dean cleared his throat, “That you don’t use any of it though. I mean, there’s not even a speck of salt lining this place -– obviously.” He nodded his head in Valac’s direction, indicating that he meant a demon could just waltz right in.

Sam just shook his head at Dean finding it rude that he would criticize her so, despite her hospitality and willingness to help them out. “Dean makes a fine point,” Castiel, who up until that point had been more like a statue, added stroking his chin in thought.

Valac and Lauren exchanged a hesitant glance, Lauren biting her lower lip awkwardly. “Well, uh, most of the time I can sense something coming,” she said hastily, “I don’t have these voices in my head for nothing you know.”

Dean nodded slowly, murmuring, “Yeah.” Still, he found her answer to be a little bland as though she weren’t giving him the legitimate reason. Like she was hiding something.

Placing a few plastic containers on the counter, Lauren popped one into the microwave before hitting a couple of timing buttons. “This should be ready in just a minute. I’ll be right back,” she stated simply, heading out of the kitchen area and into the shadows of the hallway.

“Dude, what the Hell was that?!” Sam spat almost as soon as he was certain Lauren was out of ear range.

Valac leaned forward in his seat as well, his expression none too happy. “Anyway, ever hear of the word gratitude? It’s something you might want to look in to,” he muttered grouchily.

“Watch your tone,” Castiel glared gruffly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stood straight as an arrow.

Dean arched an eyebrow at him suspiciously, quickly returning his gaze to his brother though. “What? Don’t you find it just a tad strange?” he shrugged in defense.

Sam sighed, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to ask everything that comes to mind Dean. You could’ve waited til tomorrow and brought it up a little bit more nonchalantly.”

Dean huffed wearily, rolling his eyes at Sam’s use of big words –- he knew that Dean was no dictionary. “I really don’t see what the big deal is here,” he muttered, beginning to fidget with his fingernails.

Valac cleared his throat, flashing his eyes black as glared at the eldest Winchester, “Maybe she just has an open heart and doesn’t despise every supernatural creature that walks this earth.” With that, Valac changed blinked changing his eyes back to host’s original appearance, leaning back in his chair in annoyance.

“Yeah maybe,” Dean said in a hushed tone, arising from his chair and walking towards the kitchen, “Maybe not.”

“What are you doing?” Sam furrowed his brow, twisting around to see just what his brother could be up to.

Dean reached in a nearby pencil cup Lauren had sitting on the counter and pulled out a black marker. Crouching down towards the floor, he popped the cap off working quickly to draw out a symbol. He muttered, “Just testing a theory.”

At last he stood up once more, revealing a neat little devil’s trap. With his foot he slid the carpet that lay not too far away overtop of the seal to disguise it. Valac swallowed hard as he watched it be covered, his heart rate beginning to pick up in his chest. “What do you think that’s gonna do exactly?” he asked breathlessly.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Dean replied smugly, placing the market back into the tiny can.

“Wait to see what?” Lauren smiled, walking into the room once more. He grin soon turned to a grimace, feeling the unsettled tension that clung in the air.

Dean chuckled somewhat, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, uh, just wait to see what you’re cooking up,” he lied, camouflaging it with a dopey half-smile.

Lauren just shook her head, walking towards the microwave once more to retrieve the leftovers she’d been preparing. Her shoes grazed over the knitted rug, before coming to a halt as she tried to step over the other side. A deep frown settled upon her face, as she tried to press forward once more with a failed attempt. Suddenly her eyes widened, gazing up at Dean in disbelief.

“Bingo,” Dean beamed matter of factly.

Sam quickly arose from his seat, jumping back a good couple of feet. “You’re a demon?” he asked, his tone rather high pitched in awe.

Lauren’s eyes deepened, not totally black but a very dark midnight blue. She gritted her teeth at the foul word Sam had been so generous to label her with, clutching his fists together in aggravation. Valac instantly hopped up from his seat, charging forward when he faltered to an unexpected halt –- with a flick of his arm, Castiel revealed his long silver blade and outstretched it towards the demon’s face.

“I wouldn’t dare move if I were you,” the angel advised bitterly.


	5. Chapter 5

Lauren panted heavily, feeling unnervingly confined within the devil’s trap. She glared viciously at the Winchesters, bearing the deepest blue eyes ever imagined -– it was very surprising that they were not black though, her being a demon and all. “Valac!” she spat angrily, “What did you tell them?”

Valac threw his hands up defensively, carefully eyeing Castiel’s blade which threatened him all the while. “Nothing,” he urged, his gaze locking onto hers.

“Yes you did!” Lauren hollered, plunging forward only to be stopped abruptly by the lines of the trap.

“He didn’t,” Dean interrupted, his hand clenched firmly around the handle of Ruby’s knife which still lay concealed within the depths of his jacket, “This was my own genius.” He beamed sarcastically, now raising Ruby’s blade to his temple and tapping it there gently.

Lauren gritted her teeth as she watched the knife’s blade glitter in the pale light. “Shove it up your ass,” she mumbled under her breath.

“So what, this is your big plan?” Dean asked glancing between Valac and Laruen, “You take us here, try to gang up on us, for what? What’s the whole point?”

Valac crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his weight to one side. “Considering you’re two badass hunters tagging along with a freaking angel, I’m sure that’s why we brought you here. Not to mention we’re out numbered,” Valac mused sarcastically.

Dean glared viciously at the demon, turning to Sam who now spoke. “He does have a point,” the younger hunter said quietly.

“Can we just talk about this before we start throwing punches?” Lauren spoke up quickly, “I can explain what’s going on, if you let me out.”

Dean chuckled returning his gaze to Lauren, “Yeah? Give me one good reason why I should.”

“I don’t work well under pressure,” Lauren grumbled, eyeing Dean bitterly.

“Alright,” Sam said suddenly, stepping forward.

Dean spat, “Damn it, Sam–,”

“It’s only fair Dean,” Sam interrupted his brother quickly, “We should at least see what she has to say.”

Dean said nothing, remaining silent for a moment as he watched Sam break the circle of the devil’s trap. “You try anything though,” he threatened, “I’m exorcising you ass.”

“Believe me, I’m not planning on anything,” Lauren retorted breathlessly, walking across the room to a nearby book case.

Castiel meanwhile, lowered his blade away from Valac, watching as the demon quickly scrambled away from him. “What’s that?” the angel questioned, nodding towards a thin book Lauren now held in her hands.

“My birth certificate, among other things,” Lauren replied simply, pulling out a small sheet of paper, “Lauren Marie Anderson.” She smiled somewhat as she read the name, sadness blooming in her now calm and human-like eyes.

“Anderson?” Sam echoed, “Valac told us your last name was Vagrant.”

“It is. Now anyway,” Lauren said, taking a seat on the sofa, “Anderson’s my birth name. It became Vagrant when I was adopted at age three. Up until that point I had been in foster care.”

Everyone else began to gradually relax, slowly lowering themselves onto any nearby seat. With the exception of Castiel, who remained a standing statue, all others gathered around to hear Lauren’s tale. “I’m so sorry,” Sam murmured quietly, suddenly feeling bad that he and Dean had treated her the way they did.

Lauren chuckled somewhat, “Don’t be, I’m not. At that time there was a lot of abuse and neglect going on for foster kids -- I was lucky enough to only receive the latter of those two. Anyway though, yeah I was adopted by this lovely couple, Marion and Robert Vagrant. They had one son of their own, John, but Marion had been told she was sterile.”

“So what, you wake up one morning and suddenly realize your psychic or whatever?” Dean blurted out, obviously not swayed by her very touching story.

“Not quite,” Lauren responded, tucking a thin strand of hair behind her ear, “It was a long discovery process if I do say so. I guess you could say I lived a normal life, up until I hit my teenage years. God, I must’ve only been eleven or twelve when I started having these nightmares.”

Sam leaned forward intently on his seat. “What kind of nightmares?” he question.

“Awful ones, I didn’t understand why they were even happening. Sometimes I would see flames, other times white bliss. It was Heaven –- and Hell,” she muttered quietly, her eyes glazed a bit as if she were off in some distant land.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, both feeling suddenly shocked. “You dreamt of Heaven and Hell?” Sam asked breathlessly.

“Not just dreamt,” Lauren corrected, her eyes locking onto Sam’s, “Saw, heard. It was like being teleported there and back, all in a night’s time. And you gotta keep in mind, we weren’t a religious family. Like, there was never any church going or anything like that.”

Dean cleared his throat, leaning onto the sofa’s soft and cushiony back. He crossed his arms over his chest, still not allowing his guard to be brought down. He arched an eyebrow, asking, “I’m guessing Robby and Marion didn’t take any of this too well then?”

Lauren’s expression fell, her mouth twisting into a curvy line. She admitted, “Not really, at first they just thought I’d seen too many horror movies or something. But eventually they got me psychiatric help, taking pills and such. Man, it was a nightmare.”

“I can only imagine,” Sam murmured, shaking his head.

All remained quiet for a moment, the clock in the far corner of the living striking the third hour of the morning. Everyone listened to its musical jingle, watching the pendulum swing back and forth. Back. Forth. “When did you discover you were a psychic then?” Castiel’s voice rang out suddenly. Quite honestly, it could be safe to say that the angel had almost been forgotten about, standing solemnly in the corner.

Lauren gazed over towards his standing point, a new, almost honorable, regard for the angel glistening in her eyes. “I was seventeen,” she replied, now directing her eyes upward in deep thought, “A few years had gone by, I was off my medication –- everything was going really well. That is, until I started having visions, premonitions.”

“Please,” Castiel urged, his voice barely grazing a whisper, “Continue.” With that, he took a nearby seat across from Lauren, watching her intently as she continued on with her story.

Lauren sighed wearily, pinching the brim of her nose in exasperation. “I could see things happen in my head before they actually took place in real life,” she explained jadedly.

“What kind of things?” Sam implored, seeing as her story was sounding strangely familiar.

“All kinds of things,” Lauren replied, locking eyes within him –- she needed say nothing further. “The last thing I saw though,” she choked somewhat as she continued, “Was a grey Toyota Corolla getting slammed by an eighteen-wheeler. My parents were in that car.”

A few warm tears began to trail down Lauren’s cheeks, though she lifted her hand to quickly brush them away. “Lauren, I’m so sorry,” Sam soothed, feeling a lump beginning to form in his own throat –- he always had been a softie towards other people’s tragedies.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Lauren muttered in a high pitched, scratchy voice, “I’ve seen little things every once in a while since then, but that was the last major event witnessed.”

Dean leaned forward on his hands which were clasped together, elbows leaning on his knees. “So, how exactly does this explain the whole demonic thing?” he raised his eyebrows rather unenthusiastically. Sam sort of glared at his brother, a little irritated at his whole heartlessness towards the whole situation.

“Oh that’s where I come into play,” Valac said rather earnestly, “Lauren, you mind?” Laruen shook her head silently, still breathing rather heavily in order to regain herself –- Rob and Marion were still a fairly touchy subject, despite the time’s passing since their deaths. “I know this story like no one’s business,” Valac explained, leaning forward on his seat, “See, after the funeral, Lauren explained to John about the whole visions ordeal. He took it surprisingly well, and recommended her to this dude who knew all the paranormal and such. Complete psychopath, to say the least.”

“Why do you say that?” Sam pondered, furrowing his eyebrows in a quizzical manner.

“Well after a couple of visits, he determined that she was indeed psychic and could really go far with her abilities. He called her a special child,” the demon emphasized, raising his fingers to form quotation marks, “Little did Lauren know this freak was actually a demon looking to summon up other people just like her.”

Suddenly Dean interrupted, this topic catching his interests specifically, “He wasn’t called Yellow Eyes by and chance?” Sam shot Dean a agitated look, but that quickly faded as the young hunter’s gaze returned to Valac.

“Nah, just some random pit crawler as I like to call’em,” he replied, flicking the hair from his eyes, “At any rate, that’s when Laruen discovered demons. She managed to kill the poor bastard, then moving on to become a hunter. It wasn’t until another hunter tried to exorcise her, that she discovered her partial demonism.”

“What does that mean, partial demonism?” said Sam.

“It’s sorta like you,” Lauren sniffled, “the only difference is, I don’t just have some demon blood in me, I’m a quarter demon.”

“How is that even possible?!” Dean spat suddenly.

Lauren looked slightly taken aback, feeling intimidated and infuriated by Dean’s judgmental scorns. She continued, “When I was first conceived, a demon took over my father’s body. Since he wasn’t the one actually carrying me, I didn’t become fully demonic just enough for it to affect me though. My mother found out mid-way through the pregnancy, and seeing as she didn’t know how to exorcise it, she wound up mourning the loss of a husband. The birth was extremely painful for her -– I don’t blame her for not wanting to keep something like me.”

“You’re not a thing,” Sam declared, looking her dead in the eyes.

“How do you know what I am?” Lauren spat angrily, “You’re just a freak, I’m not even human.” With that, she quickly arose from her chair, making for the staircase.

Sam stood up almost simultaneously, beginning to follow Lauren across the room. “Lauren, please I–,”

“Let her go, man,” Valac advised, placing a hand reassuringly on the hunter’s shoulder.

Sam turned back to face Valac, his eyes torn and desperate. “She’s not a thing,” he insisted, “She’s a person –- a kind and generous person.”

Valac nodded in agreement. “She is, but no one can convince her otherwise. I mean, how would you feel if your own mother tried to kill you?”

Sam felt his heart wrench even further at the demon’s words. He asked breathlessly, “Lauren’s mother tried to kill her?”

Valac looked hesitantly towards the floor. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he confessed.

“Please,” Sam urged.

“That hunter I mentioned earlier, the one who tried to exorcise her,” Valac explained, “that was her mother. See, after dad got popped off mommy got smart. She figured Lauren was probably demonic and decided to exorcise her, put the poor girl outta her misery. Only problem is, Laruen’s not possessed –- a full blown exorcism will kill her. That’s Lauren’s only weakness.”

Dean furrowed his brow slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “What about salt, holy water?”

“They’re like devil’s traps,” Valac replied, glancing down at the eldest hunter, “Yeah, they’ll irritate, but it’s not enough to do any real damage.” With that, the demon turned, leisurely making his way across the room and towards the stairs.

“Wait, where are you going?” Sam called.

Valac glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, “To find Lauren. I care about her, it’s my job to be there when she needs me.”

Sam placed his hands on his hips, snorting somewhat. “But you’re a demon, you can’t love. I mean, not really,” he muttered, visions of Ruby and her sneaky betrayal running through his mind.

That stung. Valac turned back to face Sam, hurt rather evident in his eyes. “Maybe not,” he murmured, licking his lips delicately, “But if I could, I think I’d safely say that I love Lauren.” Shaking his head somewhat, he again made for the stairs without another word.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Valac reached the top landing quickly, beginning to stealthily stride down the shadowed corridor. It didn’t take him long to find Lauren’s bedroom door, for he’d been in this house many times before. He stood just outside the door, leaning on its sturdy frame, listening eagerly. He could hear wild pants and sobs emulating from his friend –- Poor Lauren, Valac thought to himself, closing his eyes in sympathy.

Suddenly the door opened, Lauren standing before him eyes red and swollen. He stuttered in surprise, “Oh Lauren, I uh–“

“Oh save it,” Lauren interrupted him quickly, turning back towards her bed, “I don’t need to be psychic to know you’d come.” She soon plopped down onto the lavender bed sheets, clutching a fluffy pillow close to her chest.

Valac closed the door lightly behind him, leaning against for a moment longer. He then joined her atop the mattress of the bed, sitting across from her simply to gaze in wonder. He wanted to say things, comforting whispers and gentle nothings, but refrained. You’re so beautiful, Valac wanted to say, but that stayed merely a thought. “What’s going on in your head?” he asked instead.

Lauren kept her eyes downcast, shaking her head slowly back and forth. “It’s just, I haven’t thought of Rob and Marion since, since,” with that, another sob burst from her and she cradled her head in her hands, “Oh God!”

Valac cringed slightly at the word, but did his best to offer her reassurance at the same time. He wrapped his slender arms around Lauren, pulling her close so that her head lay against his chest. “I know, I know,” he soothed, “Shhh, shhh, you have to calm down Lauren. It’s gonna be alright, you’ll see.”

Lauren sniffled, pulling away from Valac somewhat to look into the depths of his eyes –- the teen he was possessing had rather beautiful ones. They were a dazzling hazel, with just a touch of a gorgeous honey brown to them. Lauren blinked vigorously breaking their stare. “Shoot,” she muttered, “I don’t have any tissues.”

“Here, use this,” Valac offered, quickly slipping his shirt over his head, knocking his hat off in the process, “It’s soaked anyhow.” The demon winked at his last remark, throwing Lauren a teasing smile.

Lauren rolled her eyes, unable to keep from smirking at his idiocy. Looking at the thin t-shirt she now held in her hands she glanced up at Valac bearing a quizzical brow. “You really expect me to blow my nose on this?” she snorted somewhat.

Valac shrugged, “Makes little difference to me.” With that, he reached a hand close to her face, gently grabbing a hold of her nose before pulling away. “Got your nose,” he murmured quietly, his voice barely grazing a whisper.

“I believe that belongs to me, kind sir,” Lauren said, imitating a British accent.

“Well m’lady,” Valac retorted, “looks like you’re gonna have to fight for it.”

“Oh really?” Lauren arched an eyebrow in suspicion, “How’s this for fighting?!” Without warning, Lauren lunged forward, tackling Valac’s slender body. She began to vigorously tickle his sides, causing him to shriek out in wild laughter. Suddenly, the table’s turned and Valac was atop Laruen giving her the same treatment.

“Do you yield?” he chuckled, “Do you? Huh?”

“Yes! Yes!” Lauren called out, swatting his hands away playfully.

Both panted to regain their breath, simply staring at one another. It was so amazing that despite all they’d encountered that they could still be completely childish at heart. Valac, who still sat atop Laruen, then leaned down caressing a hand placidly over her cheek. Lauren closed her eyes, reaching a hand up in which to place upon Valac’s. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured quietly.

Valac remained silent for a moment, continuing to stare at her. He thought about how much she meant to him and just how long he’d been gone, back to the pit –- it had been at least a year, probably longer though. At last he replied in a hushed tone, “I missed you too, more that you know.”

With that, Lauren’s eyelids fluttered open, her pupils constricting quickly at the sudden flow of light. Their eyes connected, Valac feeling his heart beginning to thrust harder in the deep confinements of his ribcage. Unable to contain himself any longer, the demon bent down to plaster a moist and passionate kiss from his lips to Lauren’s. At first Lauren only lay there, too shocked and disheveled to speak, eventually puckering her own lips to fit soundly with his. Opening her mouth just a little wider, Lauren granted Valac’s tongue entrance, feeling exhilarated as the two clashed and collided in thick saliva. A wistful moan escaped through her nostrils as Valac curved his arms up her back and towards her shoulders, hoisting her upward until they both sat vertical. Lauren removed her lips from the demon’s abruptly, moving them quickly to bite and caress the skin of his neck. Valac swallowed hard, panting at the sudden disconnection of their embrace. His hands busily traced the hem of her blouse, ready to pull the fabric up at any moment.

He was close now, just so close now. In this moment, Valac could feel his vision beginning to mist and cloud becoming darker with each passing second. His blood seemed to run cold, as he could feel the color visibly draining from his face. He panted wildly, sounding as though he’d just run the longest marathon ever imagined. Lauren glanced up, gasping at shock as she caught a glimpse of his eyes –- coal black with no sign of hope or despair. “Your eyes,” she whispered breathlessly.

Valac blinked vigorously, feeling suddenly embarrassed, quickly turning his face away from Lauren as if to contain the shame he felt within. His voice was barely audible as he spoke, “I’m sorry.”

Lauren gently lifted a hand to caress his smooth cheek. She turned his face to look at her once more, urging quietly, “Please, I want to see them.” Valac obliged to her strange request, looking her dead in the eye. He could feel her physically shiver on top of him, her skin suddenly feeling colder to the touch. Valac could see her own eyes darkening in a mixture of lust and fear.

Cupping her face tenderly in his own hands, he asked, “What do you see?”

Lauren tore her gaze from his, casting her eyes downward almost in apology. “I can’t,” she said softly, shaking her head from side to side, “I’m so sorry.” With that, she rejoined their stare, her eyes moist with new coming tears.

“What? Why not?” Valac pleaded, so desperately wanting to understand what ran through her head. “It’s the whole demon thing, isn’t it?”

Lauren’s mouth opened, but shut quickly as she debated just what her response would be. “I can’t risk it,” she replied at last, after a somewhat awkward pause. Valac licked his lips delicately, feeling as though he’d just been verbally slapped in the face –- this was completely unfair. Slipping out from her quickly, he threw his legs over the side of her bed, allowing them to dangle, bare feet touching the soft carpet. “Valac, please, I do care for you–,”

“I’d be careful, you know that,” the demon insisted, hurt wrapping around his tone, combining it with bitterness.

Lauren sighed wearily. “Valac,” she cleared her throat, “We’ve been over this before. You know what would happen if I were to–.” Her voice trailed off, not longer desiring to finish that sentence.

Valac remained silent for a moment longer, content to simply stare at his hands clasped in front of him. Lauren did not press him to say anything, wishing he would though –- anything was better than this tortureful silence. “You would risk though with Sam Winchester?” he questioned suddenly, unable to control a fiery anger which burned within him, “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“What?!” Lauren gasped in shock. She couldn’t even believe Valac was going there, this was ludicrous!

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, you know,” he continued, still not daring to look her in the eye, “It’s like you get him, like you know what his life is all about. Why can’t you look at me like that?” With that, he turned to face her at last, his demonic eyes still ever present.

“I’ve only feelings for you!” Lauren urged, taking hold of one of Valac’s hands.

Valac yanked it away harshly, not willing to let the issue drop. “You have a strange way of showing it,” he mumbled sarcastically.

Lauren could feel a deep red flushing to her cheeks, warmth spreading over her face quickly. No longer able to hold his gaze, she looked away from Valac, pleading softly, “Please, change them back.” She blinked her own eyes vigorously, feeling somehow unsettled by simply thinking of Valac’s dark abysses.

“And why should I?” Valac almost growled in response, “They symbolize all that I am, after all.”

“They unnerve me suddenly,” Lauren replied simply, not wanting to see just what his expression bore.

Valac nodded slowly, feeling rage bubble within him. “Of course they do,” he said, arising abruptly from the mattress, “To Hell with you.”

Lauren allowed fresh tears to spill from her eyes at last, flinching slightly as she heard the door slam behind Valac -- her intention was not to hurt him. Valac, meanwhile, really couldn’t care less. He stormed down the hallway with clenched fists, still bearing his black eyes for all to see. It didn’t matter at this point, let them see! He wasn’t about to hide the creature that truly lay beneath the meatsuit. Entering the living room, he quickly slipped on a jacket over his still bare chest.

Dean’s eyes were wide as he watched the demon make for the front door. “Where the Hell do you think you’re going?” he called.

“Out,” Valac huffed, not sticking around to hear the hunter’s response. Using his handy teleportation skills, the demon quickly zapped himself a good ten miles from the house on some barren road. He certainly didn’t mean for Lauren to go to Hell, literally, but it wouldn’t be the first time the thought entered his mind. Picturing the two of them entwined in boiling flames, wasting away in tortuous agony for all eternity -– the image brought fear to pit of Valac’s non-existent heart. It undeniably turned him on though. Shaking his head vigorously, Valac just concentrated on walking –- placing one foot in front of the other. One. Foot. In. Front. Of. The. Other.

Sighing deeply, the demon felt his rage subsiding ever slightly. Still, a problem lingered on in his head –- he wasn’t enraged so much at Lauren as we was now at Sam Winchester. The boys still had no idea of all he was capable of and, truly, neither did he. Valac could only hope the young hunter wouldn’t push him to the limit and force the demon to do something he would regret.


	6. Chapter 6

Lauren folded Valac’s shirt, placing it neatly on the edge of her bed –- she knew he’d back, he always came back. Heading towards the door of her bedroom, she caught a look at her reflection in her vanity mirror. The surrounding skin of her eyes had become red and puffy from her tears, making her eyes look large and bulging in compared to the rest of her very pale face. She sighed wearily, ignoring her outlandish dishevelment as she made her way down the stairs.

Sam stood up almost immediately as he saw Lauren reach the middle landing of the stair case, watching as she slowed her pace, entering into the room. Dean and Castiel, who were both very less enthusiastic, simply turned from where they were seated to face her. “Are you alright?” Sam asked, concern clearly evident in his voice as he took a cautious step forward.

“Fine,” Lauren replied simply, avoiding eye contact with the hunter and she worked her way towards the kitchen area.

“You do not appear fine,” Castiel said, his voice monotone and emotionless.

Lauren snorted somewhat in amusement at the angel’s blandness –- Tell me something I don’t know, she thought to herself. “What got Valac’s panties in a knot?” Dean blurted out.

Sam shot his brother a look, but Dean ignored it keeping his gaze steadily on Lauren as she turned to face him. “We sorta got into an argument,” she told him hesitantly after a moment.

Dean frowned, muttering in sarcasm, “No, you don’t say.”

“Dean,” Sam almost growled in irritation.

“He kissed me and I just didn’t want things to go any further,” Lauren clarified, taking a seat in one of the nearby empty seats. Sam and Dean glanced suspiciously at one another, feeling that something bigger was going on here. “You guys, I’m fine,” she insisted, “Valac didn’t try to batter or bruise me, just a little kiss. That’s all.”

Castiel took a slow and steady step forward, coming out of the corner he’d been standing in. “And why not allow it to go any further?” the angel questioned curiously.

Lauren bit her lower lip unnervingly. “Sam can I talk to you? Alone?” she turned to face the younger hunter.

Both Castiel and Dean eyed Sam, pondering on what his next move would be. “Uh yeah, sure,” Sam replied after a rather awkward moment. Lauren stepped forth, taking hold of the hunter’s wrist lightly as she led him down the shadowed hallway. Dean’s eyes never left the pair, an unsettling feeling beginning to bubble up in his stomach.

Lauren brought Sam to a small back room, a sun room is what Sam figured. She wrapped her arms around herself, seeing as the air in this place was pretty chilly. “So, what’s up?” Sam asked, not really certain of what to say or even do.

“Valac wanted to have sex, but I told him no,” Lauren declared, still facing away from the young Winchester.

Wow, Sam thought to himself. That certainly hadn’t been what he was expecting –- just wow. “And so that’s why he was pissed off?” he shrugged, not really sure where Lauren was planning to go with this.

“Not quite,” Lauren sighed, turning to face Sam at last, “He thinks I would with you.”

Sam’s eyes widened, totally flabbergasted, “Whoa, whoa, I never said anything about–,”

“I know,” Lauren interrupted him swiftly, raising her hands in a defensive stance, “What I mean is, I told him no because I just can’t risk it.”

“Risk what?” Sam questioned.

“Um, hello? One-hundred percent demon combined with quarter demon –- what is wrong with this picture?” she spat.

Sam felt slightly taken aback by her sudden burst of anger, but said nothing about it. “So you’re basically never gonna, uh, do it just cause you’re afraid you’ll get pregnant?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I mean, could you imagine just what kind of creature that would create?” Lauren continued, taking yet another step closer to Sam.

Sam felt himself taking a cautious step backwards, not wanting to be any closer to Lauren than necessary. He asked, “But what does that have to do with me?”

Lauren sighed, “Valac thinks that I would risk taking that step with you. I mean, in his opinion, you’re no better off than he is. You do still have demon blood after all.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he spoke, “True, but I mean you and me?”

Lauren laughed somewhat, licking her lips delicately. “I like you, Sam,” she began, “Maybe it’s because I can relate to you, or maybe it’s cause you have empathy, I dunno. Whatever the reason, Valac’s seen the way I look at you and I guess he just thinks something is gonna go down.”

Sam gazed into Lauren’s sparkling eyes, finding himself raising a hand to place lightly on her forearm. “Lauren, I like you too, but–,”

“It wouldn’t work, I know,” she smiled sadly, “I’m a psychic and you’re a hunter. It’s a little cliché, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, only a little,” he laughed, taking a step away from her awkwardly.

The two remained silent for a moment longer. “Well, now that we got that all straightened out,” Lauren cleared her throat, smiling a lopsided grin, “Guess we better get some rest.”

With that, both hunter and psychic made their way back into the main room of the house. Lauren retreated to her bedroom once more, while the guys got comfy downstairs. Tomorrow was going to be strenuous day, to say the very least.

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After a quick breakfast, more like brunch, that Lauren had whipped up it was down to business. Lauren led the group down the hallway towards the direction of the sunroom, instead opening a thin white door. Inside were shelves topped with everyday materials such as paper towels, canned goods, so on and so forth.

“Oh, a closet,” Dean mumbled sarcastically.

“I thought you said we were going to the basement?” Sam questioned, pretty confused at this point.

Lauren sighed, handing the electric lantern to Castiel who just happened to be standing nearby. “We are,” she said simply. With that, she grasped one of the middle shelves firmly with both hands, pulling it forward. There was a slight crack of the wood before the so called closet was pulled out, revealing a dark doorway. Lauren retrieved the lantern from Castiel’s hands, stepping forth into the shadows. “Man, I haven’t been down here in forever,” she remarked quietly as she began to walk down a small corridor.

“You have a hidden basement?” Sam asked, looking around at all the ornate carvings within the woodwork which paneled the walls.

Lauren nodded silently, grasping the chilled metal handle of a large door they had come to. “You don’t like keep people locked up down here and shit, do you?” Dean asked, quite frankly a little creeped out.

“Uh no,” Lauren laughed, cautiously side stepping down the stairs which had become unfamiliar over the years.

“Good,” Dean sighed, “I was gonna say, that’d be a little kinky. Don’t ya think?”

No one said anything, only a few muffled laughs echoing from the other group members. At last they reached the bottom foundation, which smelled slightly musty. “Home, sweet home,” Lauren sighed, reaching her hand across the wall to flick on a light switch.

As light filled the room, a wide and empty space was revealed. What both Sam and Dean had expected to be an eerie concrete prison turned out to be a fully carpeted basement, tall wooden bookshelves lining the far left wall. Towards the center of the room, however, the carpet was cut off in a circular shape, stone gilded with iron symbols filling its center. Dean caught sight of a pool table located in the right corner, his eyes brightening with delight almost instantly.

“Wicked,” the older Winchester mumbled, a dopey grin spreading across his lips.

Dean was about to make his move towards the table when Sam cleared his throat, “Dean uh, ritual remember?”

He looked slightly taken aback, but he didn’t argue. “Right,” Dean replied quietly, following Lauren to the stone circle in the middle of the room.

Laruen stopped just before the boundary of the circle, lifting her hands to either side of her body. “Effrego,” (break) she called into the darkness, her voice echoing amidst the quietness of the basement. A chilling wind swirled through the rather thick air surrounding them, old and dusty candles suddenly becoming alight with a glowing aura. There were five placed around the circle’s domain –- four white ones, tall and slender, and a single black one which was stouter. Silently Lauren stepped into the stone, signaling the boys to follow her with a curling of her finger. When Castiel and Valac tried to follow, however, a force blocked them much like a demon caught inside a devil’s trap. “Sorry guys, that’s all the further for you,” she apologized.

Castiel examined the iron lining closely with his eyes, glancing upward at Lauren suspiciously. “How?” he asked simply.

“An old ritual,” Lauren explained, heading towards one of the many bookshelves to be found, “Blocks any supernatural force –- angelic, demonic, or spiritual.”

Dean dug his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable with this whole blocking ordeal. “What about you though?”

Lauren returned to the circle bearing a large tome in her hands. She glided over the rim seamlessly. “When I first performed it, I had my blood poured into the mix. I’m the only half-breed who can cross,” she mumbled, skimming through the dusty pages of the large book within her clutches. “Douse the lights, will you?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the pages as she pointed towards the light switch.

Castiel strode over to the wall, gliding the switch downward until only a dim yellow shone from the bulbs. He watched Dean with crystal eyes as the hunter stood casually, hands in pockets, sort of slouched –- he would have it no other way. Suddenly, the angel was brought back to reality by Valac who had walked over to his location. “I’d take a seat if I were you, bub,” the demon said quietly, “This could take a while if you catch my drift?”

Nodding silently, Castiel soon joined Valac on the floor leaning against the wall. Neither one of them spoke, simply watching as Lauren began to carry out the proper ritual. “Alright, shoes off,” Lauren began, stripping herself of her own footwear, “In order for this to work correctly, you must be stripped down to the most basic of clothes. That means no shoes, no socks, no jewelry, and no shirts.”

“No shirts?” Sam questioned, looking over awkwardly at Dean before returning his gaze to Lauren.

“Is there an echo in here?” Lauren retorted, her tone heavy with sarcasm, “Come on, get to it.” With that, she curled her fingers lightly around the bottom of her own shirt, pulling it over her head. She felt goose bumps form over her flesh as the cool air brushed over her all but revealed skin, which was only now concealed by her bra. Clearing her throat, she watched contently as both Winchesters stripped themselves of ninety percent of their clothing, folding it and placing it neatly outside the circle. “My God,” Lauren murmured, her eyes widening.

Dean’s expression looked slightly taken aback. “What?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. Lauren shifted over towards him on her knees, gazing in pure awe at the handprint scar on his forearm. “What, this?”

“Not just that,” Lauren murmured, her words coming out jumbled as she overlooked his whole torso, “All the scars.” Delicately she ran her fingertips over his skin, Dean flinching somewhat at her soft touch.

Sam glanced at her awkwardly. He asked in confusion, “What scars? I don’t see any.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Lauren retorted, still stroking Dean’s flesh lightly, “They’re hidden deep, very deep, beneath the skin. Into the soul.” With that her fingers rested upon Dean’s heart, closing her eyes to simply listen to the organ’s pumping –- so strong, so powerful.

Dean exhaled deeply, feeling suddenly embarrassed. He was damaged, he knew it, but that didn’t mean it had to be spouted to the world. Especially to Sammy, and Cas. He couldn’t have them thinking he was weak, thinking he was broken. He wore his mask well, appearing so nonchalant and ill-mannered, he couldn’t have that ruined. Pulling away from her, Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, “Can we just get this show on the road? Please?”

Lauren caught the hunter’s gaze, locking eyes with him for only the briefest of moments. She nodded silently, arising to scamper to the other end of the room quickly. She returned bearing numerous articles which included a round bowl, a jug of holy water, and some ground herbs. Lauren unscrewed the cap to the holy water, pouring some into the bowl. Everyone in the room could see her visibly flinch, watching as the water spilled out of the container. She sighed, dipping her hands into the crystal liquid –- a soft fizzing followed shortly thereafter, Lauren gritting her teeth in pain. She slopped the water onto Dean’s chest, specifically over the area near his heart where she had been drawn to earlier. “Because Alastair carved into the depths of your soul,” she explained through clenched teeth. She then turned to Sam, taking his hands in her own and coating them with holy water. “Because you killed Alastair with the force of your hand,” she began, lifting some more water to his brow, “and your mind.”

Dean gazed at Sam almost in disbelief, Sam looking away sheepishly. Dean had been knocked out during the time of Alastair’s death, and he hadn’t even bothered to get the full story thereafter. “Take my hand,” Lauren continued quietly, “And join your own.” She nodded towards the brothers’ unclenched hands, watching as they joined to complete the bond. With the herbs laid out in the center of their conjoinment, Lauren began to speak once more, “Copiae copie illae universitas quod tunc, vestri regimen ego to order. Tribuo mihi vestri perturbatio, vestri vox , vestri poena. Sino meus patientia intellego vos porro. Quod iam, carus phasmatis, sino mihi os. Succurro mihi video vidi visum vinco everto Alastair.”

(forces of this world and the next, your guidance I command. give me your passion, your power, your pain. allow my suffering to understand you further. and now, dearest spirits, allow me sight. help me to see master demon, alastair.)

The walls and the very foundation of the home began to shake, bits of dust and concrete particles falling in which created a misty effect through the room. Castiel and Valac arose quickly, exchanging nervous glances before directing their attention back to the circle where Lauren and the Winchesters sat. “What is happening?” Castiel asked, leaning in slightly closer to Valac.

“She’s attempting to use the spirit world to locate Alastair,” Valac murmured simply, folding his arms tightly over his chest.

One of the lights above, which had been dim to begin with, burst causing glass to crumble to the floor. Closing her eyes even tighter, and furrowing her brow in concentration, Lauren continued onward, “Alastair permissum mihi reperio vos. Summitto vestri munimentum, summitto vestri newfound vires. Permissum mihi reperio vos, permissum mihi animadverto vos!” (alastair let me find you. lower your defenses, lower your newfound strength. let me find you, let me see you.)

A few books clattered off the shelves, falling and crashing onto the floor below. The pages of the tome which sat before Lauren began to sputter and flip wildly with the sudden wind. Sam leaned in closer towards her, not breaking the connection within their circle. “Lauren, I think you should stop,” he said, having to raise his voice over all the commotion.

“No, I almost have him,” Lauren managed to stammer, lines creased deeply in the skin upon her forehead as she concentrated ever harder. Dean could see a blue-tinted vein beginning to bulge out between her eyebrows, Lauren’s face becoming very flushed.

And that’s when it hit him –- Dean felt a sudden burst of electricity flow from one of Lauren’s hand into in his own, crawling up his arm almost sneakily like a snake. He gasped lightly at the painful, but almost pleasurable, sensation which was beginning to overtake him. “Dean?” Sam called, his eyes wide with concern. Dean could barely hear him over the sound of his own heart thudding in his chest. His shimmering hazel eyes were caught in a daze, unable to shift them in to focus. There was a flash of bright light before an image of Alastair came into view. He was walking, swiftly and sharply, determination plastered upon his face. He bore the same meatsuit which had assaulted Dean’s dreams, the one the hunter had last seen him in, in Cheyenne. With another flash, Dean could hear Alastair’s black shoes tapping against the apparent concrete flooring. One last flash burst before his eyes, and finally Dean could see the demon’s face full on –- Alastair’s milky white eyes piercing in to the very depths of him.

Dean simply couldn’t stand it any longer. Yanking his hand away forcefully, he broke the connection between he, Sam, and Lauren, causing all three of them to be thrown back a few feet. Sam recovered quickly, at Dean’s side in an instant. “Dean? Dean?!” he called, shaking his brother by the shoulders.

Dean’s eyes crossed his vision blurring as that last vision of Alastair still lingered, seared into his brain. The hunter shook his head violently, regaining reality at last. “Sam,” he clutched Sam’s arm tightly within his palm, quickly nodding his head towards Lauren.

She still lay back against the concrete, her arms spread out on either side with her palms facing upward. Valac crouched down quickly beside her, lifting her from the floor to cradle her in his arms. “Lauren,” he murmured quietly, leaning in extremely close to her ear, “Commodo suscitatio, meus carus amicus.” (please awake, my dearest friend)

Lauren’s eyelashes fluttered lightly, making way to reveal her dim irises. “I’m here friend,” she replied with a smile, thick crimson blood beginning to run from her nostril.

“Oh God,” Sam muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Far from it,” Lauren clarified, sitting up even within Valac’s grasp, “You’re lucky I’m just getting a freaking nosebleed. Do you have any idea what the risks of breaking a bond like that are?”

Dean cowered away from everyone’s’ eyes, feeling lowly and embarrassed. “I didn’t really give it much thought,” he confessed sheepishly.

Lauren arose shakily, wiping the blood carelessly away from her nose. “Matters like this need to be handled with extreme caution or else someone will end up hurt,” she continued, her voice strict and bitter.

“Look, I’m sorry okay?” Dean retorted defensively, “I just, I needed it to end.”

Furrowing her brow, Lauren crouched down to the hunter’s eyelevel. She reached a hand up to gently stroke his forehead, examining the light sweat she collected on her fingertips. “What did you see?” Lauren asked, wiping the remaining perspiration on her jeans.

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding the others’ intense gazes, “Alastair. I could feel his eyes on me.”

Lauren nodded understandingly. “You and I must’ve shared some kind of energy,” she explained, “I saw the same thing.” With that she arose, retrieving her shirt from the floor and slipping it back over her head. “You were lucky I was able to pinpoint him in time.”

“So you know Alastair’s location?” Castiel chimed in, his voice thick with authority.

Lauren bit her lower lip in slight hesitation. “Not exactly,” she confessed, “But I have an idea in the direction he’s coming. Northwest.”

“How far?” Sam asked, placing his own shirt back over his torso.

“As far north as Bemidji perhaps? Maybe even Canada, I can’t be sure,” Lauren explained, “I do know his distance is fairly far. He’s having trouble locking on to you, for whatever reason.”

Dean rolled up the sleeves to his shirt, mumbling somewhat, “Not like that’s bad thing.”

Lauren snorted, “Yeah, you boys best get on the move though. No doubt my little ritual has circulated a lot of energy over the area.”

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. “What do you mean? You’re coming with us,” his tone sounded more like a question, but he had really just assumed she’d be going.

Shaking her head, Lauren took a semi-cautious step backwards. “My place is here,” she declared.

“Alastair will kill you if he gets a hold of you,” Sam urged, feeling aggravation begin to bubble up within him.

Lauren sighed, directing her gaze towards the ground in almost shame, “I realize.”

“So what, you’re just gonna wait to die?!” Sam spat. This was unbelievable.

“Perhaps,” Lauren retorted viciously, “I’m tired, Sam. I’ve been fighting myself for a long time, I’m ready for things to end. Besides, I got this whole salvation thing down.”

“People like us don’t exactly get a free pass through pearly gates,” Sam grumbled.

Lauren licked her lips, feeling slightly taken aback. Partial demonism didn’t necessarily mean immediate damnation, did it? “You used to pray, didn’t you?” she asked suddenly, flashing her eyes up at him once more, “Why should it be any different for me?”

No one dared to speak for a moment, Lauren made an excellent point. Sam had placed his faith in God a long time ago and, despite his recent downfalls, he tried his best to practice what little religion he had. Lauren had every right to pray and worship as well. Suddenly Castiel’s voice rang out, “Lauren knows what is best for herself.”

Lauren gave him a grateful smile, which quickly diminished as Sam spoke again. “How can you even say that?” he said, looking at Castiel almost with disgust.

“What difference would it make?!” Lauren argued, feeling her own temper rising, “I stay I die, I go with you—,”

“You live,” Sam declared simply.

“Only for a little while,” Lauren confessed, finding herself taking a step closer to the young hunter, “I’m the one whose created the massive psychic energy here. I go with you, I’ll just be a homing beacon to your location. Alastair will be on Dean in heartbeat.”

Valac felt his heart wrench in envy as Lauren and Sam stood only inches apart, their gazes fixated on one another. “Where do you suggest we go?” Castiel asked.

“South,” Lauren replied, “Kansas would be a good choice.”

Sighing bitterly, Valac pulled on his jacket beginning to make for the basement stairs. He glanced over in Dean’s direction, “Well, if you and Dorothy are going to be hitching it back home I guess I’ll meet you there.”

“Where are you going?” Castiel questioned, arching an eyebrow in suspicion.

Valac remained silent for a moment longer, as if debating his response. “I owe you no explanation,” he retorted, heading up the flight of stairs before the angel could say another word.

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The grand trio was on their way within an hour. There had been lengthy goodbyes, Sam insisting Lauren come with them to a nearby motel at least. Dean allowed his brother probably more time than was necessary -– he knew Sam had a thing for Lauren and he wanted to give the two a chance. After all, Sammy really hadn’t had the best of luck when it came to women. Compared to the other freak-ladies, Lauren seemed to be the most relatively normal. Still, here they were on the road, the Impala speeding down the interstate.

“Try calling Valac,” Dean called to Sam over the sound of the wind which was gushing through his window.

Sam looked at him quizzically. “What for?” he asked, puzzled.

“I dunno,” Dean shrugged, shifting to get comfortable in his seat, “I got a bad feeling about him traveling on his own.”

Sam just shook his head as he whipped out his phone and dialed the demon’s number -– he had in memorized, but there was simply no way he was adding Valac to his contact list. It rang once... twice... three times, before reaching Valac’s voicemail. “Hey, this is Valac. Leave a message,” his voice mumbled in a deep, almost threatening tone.

Sam didn’t even bother saying anything after the beep, simply closing the lid and tucking the phone back into his pocket. “Voicemail,” he declared, satisfied when Dean said nothing in return.

Valac, meanwhile, was somewhere just outside of Norfolk, Nebraska. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, not even bothering to fish it out. He was simply content to listen as his feet crunched upon the tiny pebbles of gravel in which the road was lined with. His foot caught the edge of a murky puddle, causing his shoe to be filled with chilled water. “Shit,” he mumbled, glancing downward to examine the soaked article.

Suddenly, his shin caught on something which forced the demon to topple over. Valac came crashing down onto the gravel, stones smashing roughly into the flesh of his chin and palms. He groaned in pain, sitting up to clutch his newfound wounds in desperation. “Déjà vu, pet?” echoed a familiar chilling voice from above.

Valac felt his eyes turn instantly black, his heart rate accelerating in his meatsuit’s chest. He directed his gaze upward, finding Alastair towering smugly over him. His former torturer had his hands clasped together delicately in front of him, as if debating what do with Valac next. Well, Valac wasn’t about to give up the fight easily -– the demon hopped up and sprinted quickly, as fast as his legs were able to carry him. He panted, still driving and striving as fast as he could. Suddenly he stopped, however, seeing as Alastair reappeared before him. Valac nearly lost his balance again, trying to edge away from the all-powerful demon.

“Tsk, tsk, Valac,” Alastair teased in mockery, taking a step closer to the young boy, “Now, don’t you even think about smoking out of such lovely meat.” With that, Alastair clasped the tip of Valac’s chin within his fingers, tilting Valac’s head upward in which to look him dead in the eye.

“So, what calls for the occasion?” Valac chuckled somewhat, attempting his best to disguise the major discomfort which was coursing through his veins.

Alastair grinned devilishly, sliding his eyes back into their typical human state. “You’ve been talking to the Winchesters,” he murmured quietly.

“And why would I be doing that exactly?” Valac arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest in deception.

In the blink of an eye, Alastair had Valac gripped tightly by the shirt causing the two of them to be only inches apart. Slinking one hand downward, Alastair slipped his hand inside Valac’s pocket in which to collect the younger demon’s phone. He jerked away from Valac slightly, scrolling down the list of missed calls until finding Sam Winchester’s number. Valac caught eyes with Alastair, swallowing roughly in fear of what was to come. Alastair licked his lips delicately, leaning in close to whisper in Valac’s ear, “I don’t like liars.”

With that, Alastair pulled Valac by the back of his shirt, half dragging him off the gravel path and into the nearby woodland. Valac twitched and squirmed within his tormentor’s grasp, wriggling in attempts to break free. “Agh, where are you taking me?!” he gasped.

“You shall see, my boy,” Alastair replied in a relaxed, yet casual manner, “You and I, we’re going to play a little game.”


	7. Chapter 7

Valac screeched in agony, curling both his fingers and toes as Alastair carved into his flesh yet again. The psychopath had him confined to some sort of contraption similar to that of a dentist’s chair, still he refused to have Valac wear the gag. Something about his scream made Alastair become more enthused about his work – sort of perverted really, in Valac’s opinion at least.

“Now, isn’t this enjoyable?” Alastair murmured, watching in delight as some blood from Valac’s intestines squirted up at him, “Doesn’t it just take you back to all the pleasant memories we shared down in the pit?”

Valac panted heavily, though he felt like his lungs were about to collapse any minute. “Pleasant, w-wouldn’t be the word I, I’d use,” he stammered, thankful as Alastair placed down his blade if only for a moment.

The elder demon smiled evilly, leaning in close to Valac until he could feel Alastair’s breath on his cheek. “Let’s move things along, shall we?” he murmured quietly, “Why don’t you tell me where you’ve sent the Winchesters on their merry way, hmm?”

Valac closed his eyes, letting his pain numb for only the briefest of moments. He also wanted to avoid as much eye contact with the demon as possible. “Or how ‘bout I don’t?” he retorted matter of factly.

Not even waiting a moment for Valac’s answer to seep in, Alastair clutched his blade once more digging into the depths of Valac’s skin and organs. The demon cried out in pain one more, his throat slowly but surely becoming raw. “Valac, Valac, Valac,” Alastair almost laughed mockingly, “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, things don’t have to be this way between us. I mean, all you have to do is say one teensy weensy location and poof –- it all ends.”

Valac gasped out, quickly clamping his mouth shut again in which to conceal a loud and blood curdling scream. “South,” he managed to stammer, “South. I, I don’t know wh- where though.”

Content with this answer Alastair sighed, placing his blade aside. “But you know someone who does?” the demon mused, his tone deep and almost seductive as he spoke.

Lauren. Valac’s thoughts were drawn to her almost instantly. He blinked vigorously, trying his best to avoid Alastair’s intense and piercing stare. “No, there’s no one,” he denied in a pant.

“Oh but there is,” Alastair murmured, leaning in ever closer to Valac’s ear, “Did you honestly think I didn’t know about dearest Lauren?” He lingered on her name, dragging each syllable out an annunciating it with precision.

“Don’t you touch her!” Valac spat, pulling strenuously towards the demon despite his tight bindings.

Alastair stepped back, a devilish grin curling the edges of his lips. He sighed, speaking to Valac almost nonchalantly, “That’s brave, considering you’re the squirming rabbit caught in my trap.”

Valac gritted his teeth angrily, feeling his old Hell fury beginning to bubble up inside him once more. “If you know some much about her already,” he challenged, “Why not just take her yourself, hmm? Why question me?”

“Oh Valac,” Alastair sighed in exasperation, gripping the demon roughly by the jaw, “but that’s half the fun, my boy –- the questioning. To hear all your chokes and screams, simply divine. Of course you know as well as I do that if it were that easy I’d have long since gone and you, well, you’d be back home in a snap.” The demon rolled his eyes white at this remark, snapping his fingers for emphasis in which to attempt to instill fear upon Valac.

Instead Valac simply smiled back at his fellow Hell spawn, feeling the blood trickle faster from his wounds as he laughed to himself. “You need my help,” he chuckled, “I mean you actually need my help. I’m sorry, this is just such a rare moment for me.”

Alastair’s face fell, feeling irritation creep up in the back of his mind. “Moments like these aren’t bound to last long,” he growled somewhat, leaning in so close that he and Valac’s noses were nearly touching, “So what d’you say we get back to the questioning, hmm?”

“Or what?” Valac whispered, intentionally grazing the skin on Alastair’s face, “You cut me open again? Play with my insides? Killing me will do you know good, and the worst part is –- You. Know. It.”

Alastair straightened up, feeling very much taken aback by this young one’s cockiness. It was about time somewhat put him back in his place, which is what Alastair really had in mind all along. Striding quickly across the small confinements of the room, Alastair used a damp cloth to wipe most of Valac’s blood from his hands before picking up a large book from the nearby table. “You make a fine point there, son. What is the purpose of keeping you here after all? Especially when you could be having so much fun downstairs,” Alastair arched his eyebrow suggestively, turning the pages until he was about midway through the book. Valac’s face fell at his words, watching both fearfully and curiously as Alastair began to read aloud. “Ego to order vos, ingredior of flamma , licentia is terrenus somes. Reverto ut locus of vestri abyssus , exsisto inter vestri own pius. Ex thee Ego voco.”

(i command you, walker of the flames, leave this earthly body. return to the place of your hell, be among your own kind. out of thee I summon.)

Valac could feel his blood beginning to run cold, thick and goopy through his veins. The perimeters of his vision began to darken, and he could feel himself being ripped from his meatsuit. Straining his head against the position in which he lay, Valac let out a shrill cry feeling as though his soul were being ripped in two. Still Alastair continued, “Ex thee Ego voco, ex thee Ego voco, ex th—,”

(out of thee I summon, out of thee I summon, out of th—)

“Alright!” Valac cried as loud as he could, his fists bunched into tight balls, “Alright, alright! Stop!!”

With an echoing thud Alastair shut the book he held in his hands, carelessly tossing it aside. He took a few leisurely steps back to where Valac still lay, beaming in the victory he had achieved over the much younger demon. “Now, tell me Valac, where does little miss Lauren reside?” he asked casually, a sweet and innocent mockery to his tone.

Valac closed his eyes tightly, panting at the strain which had just been placed upon him. “Fort Pierre,” he muttered, hating himself for every word he was about to pronounce, “Far end of Deadwood Street – tan house, double story, middle of the woods. Impossible to miss.”

Alastair nodded slowly, taking in all the information Valac had so graciously just handed over. “Thank you, my boy. You’ve been most helpful,” he praised, reaching once more for the book and easily finding his place.

Valac’s eyes widened as he saw Alastair regaining his place in the text. “Wh- what?” he gasped in disbelief, “I told you. I told you! I told you everything, I didn’t lie!!”

Looking up from the pages, Alastair bore a blank and expressionless stare. “I know, but I never said it was going to save you. See you back in the pit there, Valac,” with that, Alastair laid a firm hand on Valac’s shoulder, before repeating the infamous phrase once more, “Ex thee Ego voco.”

He watched pleasantly as Valac’s true identity smoked out of the teenager’s body, who was long since dead. Alastair slammed the book loudly on the table once more before gathering his tools and making for the door. He was on a mission to find this demonic psychic –- to find Lauren Vagrant.

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Lauren jolted somewhat as she slipped her foot into the steaming water of her bath. Slowly she lowered her naked flesh into the absolutely relaxing water, allowing the pink tinted foam to envelope her fully. Letting out a long drawn sigh, she twisted her neck to both the left and right feeling content as a loud crack emulated from each side. Then raising one foot from the warm bathwater, she slid her hands up and down the slick skin of her leg coating it with fuzzy looking bubbles. She let out yet another sigh, placing her leg back into the confinements of the bathtub.

Reaching her hand steadily over to the right, Lauren grabbed hold of a stereo’s knob, allowing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata to fill the unnervingly quiet air. She breathed in deeply, invigorated by the enriching scent of both vanilla and lavender which always seemed to be ever present in her bathroom. Then at last, allowing her eyelids to drift shut, Lauren rested her head back and just relaxed – purely and simply relaxed. And steadily, she began to feel the tension strip from her joints. Feel all the discontent and heartache just melt away as the soft piano carried her mind to some distant land.

Suddenly she felt a light draft wash over her shoulders, which were barely exposed. She kept her eyes closed, furrowing her brow –- she knew she had not left the window open. There came an unexpected creak upon the floor, which made Lauren’s heart stop in its tracks as she felt another very strong presence within the room.

“Puis-je avoir cette danse?” (may I have this dance?) a soft, almost comforting voice spoke.

Lauren glanced over her shoulder to see none other than Alastair in her peripheral vision. She’d been expecting him. Though she was a bit surprised –- in his hands he clutched a single white rose, tinted with round red streaks. Blood, perhaps? Slowly she turned her head to face forward once more, swallowing hard in attempts to control just how the sound of her voice would come out. “I did not know you could speak French, Alastair,” she said simply, her tone stronger than she felt.

“Then you obviously don’t know me very well,” Alastair retorted, his voice still faint even as he approached closer to the tub, placing the rose on the table upon which the stereo sat as well.

Lauren examined it closely –- the droplets were indeed blood, she was sure of it. The only that really bothered her though was who’s blood it might be. There were a thousand different possibilities, it could be any one of the people she had become so fondly of throughout her life. After all, Alastair would know which of her loved ones would be the best to kill. The most agonizing. Still, she continued wearily, “You enjoy Beethoven then?”

Alastair took a seat on the edge of the shiny porcelain, folding his one leg over the other. As he rested one hand casually over his knee, Lauren couldn’t help but notice the unmistakably red tint to his skin –- Also bloodstained, she mused. This made her afraid, she wouldn’t deny it. “Come now Lauren, you know I haven’t come to discuss the likeness of music,” Alastair teased, rolling his eyes back into a more pleasing human form.

Lauren aloud a soft sight to escape from her nostrils, not wanting Alastair to see the real fear which was brewing in her very foundation. Though she was sure he could already sense it. That was what he fed off of, after all. She tilted her head, gazing at him innocently, “So why have you come?”

Staying silent for a moment longer, Alastair held off on his response loving how the suspense was building between them. With every longing stare he threw at her, every manipulative glance, she shuttered beneath the weight of his eyesight. Even one wrong sigh could destroy her composure completely and so Alastair played his cards cautiously –- very cautiously indeed. “I know what you are,” he mumbled at last, leaning in just a bit closer towards her naked flesh.

Gritting her teeth, Lauren choked back some vicious response. Right now she could feel it building, the rage she tried to so hard to contain. As a matter of fact, Lauren desired nothing more within this moment than to wrap her fingers around the demon’s neck and choke the life out of him. Even so, that would probably do no good, seeing as he’d just be brought back from the dead again. “That doesn’t answer my question,” she managed to whisper, keeping her voice low and contained.

“Well then,” Alastair said in equal quietness, “allow me to demonstrate.” Without even waiting for her permission, Alastair’s hands were upon her in the blink of an eye. Somehow, not even having to step into the bathtub, Alastair managed to cup his hand firmly over Lauren’s neck, hoisting her upwards against the tile. She flailed and kicked her legs, choking and sputtering at his vice grip.

Then, with another unexpected and jerky movement, Alastair pulled her away from the tub and began to drag her towards the door of the bathroom. With his foot he bust the door open, leading her forcefully towards the bedroom. Ruthlessly, he tossed her nude figure onto the bed sheets, wrapping his slender fingers around her wrists in which to bind her from resistance. “No, no,” she protested, quietly at first but gradually growing louder, “No! No!!”

She continued to kick and scramble within his grasp, pushing and yanking as he straddled her all the while. “Shhh, shhh,” Alastair soothed almost tenderly, “Calm down, I’m not going to take anything from you.”

Lauren stopped momentarily, taken aback by the demon’s plan. Here he sat atop her, naked, holding her down amidst the bed linens –- what exactly was he planning to do?! “Wh- what?” she stuttered, still floored by what he had said.

“Come now, don’t be so dim-witted Lauren,” Alastair scolded, “You can’t honestly believe that is what I desire from you.”

“Then what do you want?” Lauren panted in response, still feeling tense and extremely uncomfortable given the circumstances.

“Like I said before, I know what you are, there’s no hiding it from me,” the demon murmured, leaning in close to Lauren’s damp face so that his breath added to the moisture glazing her skin, “I’ve come to redeem the monster –- the monster you’ve kept caged for oh so long.” Lauren’s eyes widened as she realized his plan. She once more tried to resist his force, his touch, pushing and shoving him away from her. Alastair willed himself off of her, taking a few steps back. “Fine, have it your way,” he shrugged.

Lauren stared at him cautiously for a brief second, before trying to bolt for the doorway. To no avail -– an invisible block, a barrier, kept her at bay. She directed her eyes towards the ceiling, her mouth dropping slightly in awe at the intricate devil’s trap carved into her ceiling. “How did you?” Lauren shook her head gazing at the master demon.

“Enough chit chat,” Alastair waved his hand in front of him, “Let’s move along to the fun, shall we? Animus porro occultus, Ego dico super vos. Suggero ut vestri pelagus populus, nutritor ex suum vita. Sentio suum pectus pectoris, sentio suum cruor. Orior oriri ortus ex vestri vicis lost. Utor imperium quod has usquequaque vestri.”

(soul long hidden, I call upon you. attach to your main host, feed from their life. feel their heart, feel their blood. rise from your time lost. use the control which has always been yours.)

Lauren immediately felt her chest begin to constrict, the blood in her veins burning as it coursed along feeling like acid within her. She fell to her knees, curling her body tightly into itself, gasping out and just wanting the pain to stop. “Wh- why?!” she called out, needing to know Alastair’s reasons.

Alastair took a casual step towards the boundaries of the devil’s trap, crouching down to Lauren’s eye level. “You may not know me, but I know you Lauren,” he began, his expression blank but his eyes filled with pride and sarcasm, “And I know what you’re afraid of. I know this is what you fear most.” As he spoke, his tone became tauntingly melodic.

Lauren looked up at him in dismay, feeling darkness beginning to consume her eyesight as she continued to gaze. Alastair was changing her –- Lauren had left her demonism buried for so long, hidden, that it had become like a second personality. Like another Lauren just waiting to be unleashed like a rabid dog. “Agh, no!” she gasped, reaching out at him vigorously.

Alastair darted back, as if her hand would be poisonous to the touch. He snickered somewhat, pacing before her in leisurely strides. “Now, now, let’s not be hasty,” he murmured, continuing on with his speech, “Orior oriri ortus oh atrum unus. Insisto secundum mihi quod utor is somes pro talis damno eventus.” (rise, oh dark one. follow after me and use this body for such damned consequences.)

Lauren toppled over completely now onto the hardwood floor, curling herself into the fetal position. She screamed out wanting to distract Alastair, wanting to make him stop. “No, no! Please!” she begged, feeling saltwater tears overwhelming her eyes, making them glassy as she dared to look upon the demon once more.

Alastair caught her stare, quickly breaking it as he directed his head towards the heavens. His arms were outstretched on either side of him, his Adam’s apple bulging from his throat as he hollered over Lauren’s screeches. “Orior oriri ortus oh atrum unus! Orior oriri ortus oh atrum unus! Orior oriri ortus oh atrum unus!” (rise oh dark one! rise oh dark one! rise oh dark one!) Alastair called into the nock thick and disturbing atmosphere of the home.

Lauren’s back was arched from the floor by some unknown force, her torso somehow levitating as her own arms were stretched wide as well. The pain was washed away from her body, and soon only a warm tingling sensation remained. She allowed her mouth to hang open in the purest of awe, her eyes dazed as her mind wondered somewhere distant. And suddenly, Lauren felt it –- a thick and murky evil which crept from the pit of her stomach to the very heart of her soul. She let out one final yelp, before collapsing onto the floor, appearing to be lifeless.

Alastair stood over Lauren’s body triumphantly, gazing down at his new apprentice. A few moments of eerie silence passed between them before Lauren gasped loudly, allowing her first newborn breath to enter her lungs. “Rise,” Alastair commanded simply.

Lauren instantly unfolded her body, rising tall and proud. Her eyes were that glistening deep blue once more, a devilish grin spreading over her lips. She lifted a hand to gaze upon, twiddling her fingers and watching them move closely. She then focused her sight on Alastair, her master. “I have been waiting for this for a very long time,” she stated. Directing her still demonic eyes to the ceiling, Lauren inhaled deeply merely cracking her neck to break the symbol. A deep crack was etched in the ceiling, and she was now able to walk free.

Alastair couldn’t contain the pleasure that coursed through him at his newest creation –- he was one step closer to achieving his goal, to finding the Winchesters. “So what do you say there, Lauren?” he arched an eyebrow, circling his pupil slowly, “Are you ready to toy with the Winchesters?”

Lauren’s head followed Alastair steadily as he paced around her. “Oh Hell yes,” she murmured in response, blinking her eyes back to their casual human appearance.

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Dean’s head jerked as he shifted uncomfortably in the chair upon which he slept. It was a rather large chair, beige colored with a comfy pillow placed upon its back, and still the hunter could not seem to keep still. For it was the dreams within that made him so restless.

Dean found himself sitting amidst a crowded restaurant –- there were thin wires of small white lights strung across the ceiling, causing an almost sensual glow the room. All around him, friends and lovers sat contently eating their dinners, all dressed in formal attire. He was even wearing a suit himself –- semi-casual black with a small crimson cloth folded within the jacket pocket. Trying to figure out why he would even be at such a place, Dean caught sight of the harpist who sat in the far corner. Though he couldn’t see her face, she was surely a lovely woman. Rich black curls flowed to about shoulder length, and she wore a very sexy and slimming forest green dress. Her luscious toffee skin topped it off, and Dean found himself simply captivated by her beauty.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” a voice suddenly echoed from across the table.

Dean turned his head slowly, only to find none other than Alastair sitting contently with his hands folded in his lap. The demon too wore a suit, an outfit in which Dean had never suspected he’d catch Alastair in. Still he cleared his throat, feeling his body immediately tensing, though he tried to keep his cool as always, “What the Hell is this?”

“What does it look like?” Alastair challenged, arching an eyebrow as he lifted a glass of red wine to his lips. Dean watched his old master curiously as he drank, attempting to find a way to wake himself from his illusion, this nightmare. “It’s no use, Deano,” Alastair muttered suddenly, “Trying to escape. See, this is my game and I move the chess pieces wherever I desire.”

Dean furrowed his brow, finding himself leaning on the table closer to the demon. “What about—,”

“Even the harpist, that’s right,” Alastair interrupted him, smiling smugly.

Clamping mouth shut, Dean gritted his teeth in irritation. This interrupting business had to stop, really. “So what, my dreams are your Barbies and you’re just gonna dress’em up any way you like?” he spat, shrugging in confusion, “I mean, come on what’s the point?”

Alastair drank once more from his wine glass, looking Dean dead in the eye. “Well, I thought it would make things easier, but you obvious prefer the more isolated approach,” he mused. With a sudden snap of his fingers, the fancy restaurant disappeared and the two were now in an empty warehouse.

Dean glanced down at his clothes, suddenly feeling a draft sweep over his arms. He was now wearing a short sleeved shirt and –- was that blood? It was, and there was a lot of it too. Sliding his rickety wooden chair away from the equally rickety wooden table, Dean soon discovered that his entire shirt was speckled with the deep crimson. The hunter could feel his heart rate beginning to increase as he returned his eyes to Alastair’s. “No,” he growled simply.

Alastair rolled his eyes into their milky white stance, smiling even broader than before. “Yes,” he retorted, a slight seduction to his voice, “Yes, yes, yes.”

There came a clap of thunder which lit up the otherwise completely shadowed warehouse. Dean swallowed hard as he felt an object in his grasp. Glancing downward he came to realize it was a razor –- Alastair’s bloody razor. The first tool he’d ever used, ever tortured with, in the depths of Hell. Feeling a wave of panic flourish over him, Dean tossed the weapon immediately onto the floor nearly falling out of his seat as he arose. “Get away from me!” he hollered, his voice cracking in fear.

With a slight breeze, Alastair appeared only inches from his favorite puppet, gripping Dean roughly by the shirt in which to draw him closer. Dean shuddered as he felt Alastair’s steaming breath against the skin on his cheek. The demon forced the razor back into Dean’s palm, tilting his head to the side as he leant in to whisper in the hunter’s ear. “It’s too late, Dean. You’re already mine,” he cooed, emphasizing on each and every word.

Dean jolted awake at a sudden pounding against the door. His eyes flashed open, bolting straight up as he heaved for breath. Sam quickly appeared near his side, eyeing the sweat which had collected on his brother’s forehead suspiciously. “You okay?” Sam whispered, gazing at him with his typical puppy dog eyes.

Dean pinched the brim of his nose, muttering in response, “Yeah.” There came another loud blow at the door which caused both brothers to creep over to it cautiously.

“Come on guys, I know you’re in there!” Valac hollered, panting in between words.

Sam reached for the door knob pulling it open to reveal Valac, battered and bloody standing the doorway. The demon took a few steps forward before collapsing onto nearby Dean. “Whoa, whoa, easy,” Dean grumbled, half dragging Valac over to the chair in which he’d previously been napping.

“What the Hell happened to you?” Sam gasped, seeing the huge amounts of blood which were caked onto the demon’s clothing.

Valac allowed his eyes to drift shut, his chest still bobbing heavily with every breath taken. “Alastair’s what happened to me,” he spat at last, “Isn’t his artwork lovely?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Alastair got you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Valac winced, adjusting himself upright, “Killed my meatsuit too. Damn.”

“What did he want?” Sam continued his interrogation session, leaning in slightly closer.

“Well, at first he wanted to know where you two shit heads were,” Valac scoffed, “When I convinced him I didn’t know where you ran off to, he wanted Lauren.”

Sam held his breath, suspense building in the pit of his stomach. “And?”

Valac locked eyes with the younger Winchester, quickly breaking the stare feeling dismayed. He confessed, “And, I kinda told him.”

“You did what?!” Sam spat, about ready to throttle the demon where he sat.

Dean forcefully pushed his brother away, about ready to voice his say when another voice echoed within the room, “Dean, Sam, grab him we must go!” Castiel called, quickly striding over to their location.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asked.

Castiel looked around the entire room as if it were contaminated. “There’s no time,” he said quickly, “She’s coming.”

“Wait, who’s coming?” Sam insisted, not entirely sure of what was going on right now.

“Lauren. Alastair, he’s changed her -– she’s working alongside him now, fully demonized,” Castiel explained, propping open the back window which led to a fire escape.

“Well if that isn’t just grand,” Dean muttered in sarcasm.

“Which is exactly why we need to leave, now,” Castiel insisted, his voice more urgent than before.

Valac suddenly perked up in his seat, his expression looking as though he’d just soiled himself. “It’s too late,” he murmured softly, “She’s already here.”

“Dean, now!” Castiel shouted, his typically kind sapphire eyes brimming with urgency.

Within seconds of the angel speaking, the door to the motel room burst open flecks of splintered wood flying in every direction. Before Lauren even entered the room, Dean and Sam were slammed against the nearby wall while Valac became pinned to the floor. Castiel, meanwhile, appeared unaffected. He was about to rush to his entrapped colleagues when Lauren spoke out sternly, “Not so fast.”

Her voice was different than before –- her tone and the way she formed the words, sly almost. It’s like she had instantly conformed to the typical demonic standards, sarcastic and arrogant. Lauren strode into the room almost casually, wearing black knee-high heel boots, dark jeans, and a navy blouse, with a black denim jacket atop it. And, to finish it all off, Lauren had decided to place a rather thick ring of black eyeliner around her wide almond eyes. “Bye bye, pretty angel,” she smirked devilishly, waving her hand. Instantly, Castiel vanished into thin air as if he had teleported away himself.

“How’d you find us?” Valac gasped from the floor, straining himself against the pressing force.

Lauren’s midnight eyes locked onto the demon, taking a few more steps over to his location in which to crouch beside him. “Silly goose,” she scolded in mockery, “I’m the one who sent you on your way.”

“Still,” Valac scoffed, “Even you don’t have enough energy to locate on command. How’d you do it?”

Lauren leaned in even closer, grasping Valac firmly by the fabric of his shirt. “Stop stalling, it won’t save you,” she muttered licking her lips delicately.

“So where’s Alastair?” Dean interrupted suddenly, barely having the courage to speak the demon’s name after his previous nightmare.

Arising swiftly from the floor, Lauren strolled leisurely to the hunter’s location against the wall, getting right into his face as well. “Oh, don’t worry, he’ll be here soon. He wanted to make sure I had a little fun with you all first,” she smiled, patting Dean lightly on his stubble coated cheek.

“Well, get on with it then. Let’s do this already!” Valac urged, feeling blood beginning to seep out of his wounds once more.

Sam watched, petrified, as Lauren turned to face the agonized demon. Valac cringed simply from her stare, a thick pool of red emulating from his weary body. “You know, I don’t know why I put this demon thing off for so long,” she almost laughed at the sight before her, “It is just so much fun.”

“You know what else is fun?” another voice rang from across the room. All eyes turned to see another woman, middle aged, standing just inside the window. She wore faded jeans, combat boots, and a black tank top which was concealed by what appeared a moss green commando jacket. Her light fawn hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, thin strands of hair hanging in the woman’s delicate blue eyes. Her eyes, they appeared so familiar –- like they’d been seen somewhere else.

“And what is that?” Lauren challenged, arching her eyebrow as she took a dominant step forward.

The older woman smiled smugly, her eyes full or sorrow and deceit. “Blasting your ass full of rock salt!” the woman hollered, pulling out what looked like a miniature rocket launcher. Blasting a large shell from its barrel, salt hammered into Lauren’s stomach blowing her all the way out of the motel room and back into the hallway. Sam and Dean immediately fell from the wall, scrambling to their feet as quickly as possible. “Come on, let’s go!” the woman shouted, signaling for them to follow her out the window.

Dean did as directed, Sam quickly collecting Valac from the floor and almost carrying him outside. It was a hassle, climbing down the rusted stairs of the fire escape but somehow gigantor had managed to do it. Nearly as swift as shadows, the woman stealthily led the group through the nearby alleyways until coming to a large and bulky van. It was a sleek black, the windows tinted, though it sort of reminded Dean of a creeper’s vehicle that would have Free Candy spray painted on the side or some shit like that. Hurriedly he pulled the handle of the side door open, waiting for Sam and Valac to stumble in before hopping inside himself. The woman quickly jacked the driver’s seat, twisting the keys in the ignition and pulling out of there faster than expected.

As they rounded a few corners, the three back passengers stumbled back and forth, finally settling as they got onto a straight road. Once Dean caught his bearings, he was able to see that the inside of this van was littered with weaponry ranging from small handguns to massive automatics. He gaped in awe catching sight of the knife collection as well. There was one knife particularly though which caught his eye -– it was a rather large bowie knife, nestled in a leather case. On the outside was printed the initials A.A., and there was a small chain in which two dog tags dangled from attached to the handle. Dean held the aluminum tags lightly in his hands reading over the printed name –- Adam Anderson.

“Anderson?” Sam echoed, “Valac told us your last name was Vagrant.”

“It is. Now anyway,” Lauren said, taking a seat on the sofa, “Anderson’s my birth name. It became Vagrant when I was adopted at age three.”

The conversation replayed over in Dean’s head clearly, reminiscing over the name. Suddenly he looked up, catching the woman’s stare from the rear view mirror. “Who are you?” he spat, his tone low and demanding.

The woman sighed, returning her focus to the road before her. “Call me Lillian,” she replied simply, clutching the steering wheel until her knuckles became white, “I’m Lauren’s mother.”


	8. Chapter 8

The ride in the back of this woman, apparently Lillian’s, van dragged on at the rather awkward at twisted information that had just been revealed. “You’re Lauren’s mother?” Sam asked breathlessly, clinging to Valac’s side in which to keep the demon standing upright.

“Yep, Lenore Anderson by birth, Lillian Anderson by choice,” Lillian replied simply, making a sharp left turned which caused everyone to topple over. “Sorry.”

Sam just sat there for a moment, shaking his head lightly in disbelief. No wonder her eyes had looked so familiar, Lauren got them from her mother. With yet another sudden movement, the van came to an abrupt stop in which Lillian hopped out of the driver’s seat and onto what appeared to be a gravel driveway. Dean slid open the side door, climbing out and turning to collect Valac who Sam was directing forward. The elder Winchester was surprised at just how light the demon was as he helped to hoist him onto the ground. Sam soon appeared by Valac’s side, slinging his arm of his shoulder once more and slowly making towards Lillian’s location.

Lillian was fidgeting with a large lock, which secured a set of steel doors – some kind of underground storeroom as it would seem. Dean helped her in the task of opening the large doors, following her cautiously down a flight of concrete stairs. “What the heck is this place?” he asked.

“A basement, a cellar, a shelter – call it what you will,” Lillian murmured, flicking on a large light switch as they reached a middle landing.

A few bulky overhead lights flickered to life, allowing the passageway towards the unknown to be seen. “And is it yours?” Sam continued, slowly helping Valac make his way down the stairs.

Lillian prolonged onward down the second flight of stairs, calling over her shoulder in response, “Mine and anyone’s in need of its protection.” After only a few more steps, they reached the final foundation landing in which there stood a large door. Lifting a key from a loose chain that hung around her neck, Lillian placed it in the slot beside the door and twisted it to the right. For the briefest of seconds nothing happened, and then there came a sudden beep which startled everyone. With a loud, almost wheezing noise, the doors separated and opened to reveal a bunker-type room which lay behind.

Towards the center of the room there was a large woodened table, probably about six feet long, accompanied by four chairs which sat snuggly pushed in. Lillian stepped forth, pulling out three of them. “Have a seat,” she offered with an outstretched arm.

The two hunters and a demon quickly moved over towards the empty chairs, Sam emptying Valac lightly onto one of them. For an instance, their gazes caught neither one daring to speak as Sam slowly moved away. “Thanks,” Valac nodded awkwardly.

Sam said nothing, clearing his throat as he slid his chair in closer to the table. Dean furrowed his brow suspiciously at the two, but his attention was quickly directed back at Lillian as she returned with a six pack. “So uh, now that you obviously know all about me,” she chuckled, sliding a beer across the table to each of them, “Mind telling me a little about yourselves? Where’ya from?”

Valac, Sam, and Dean all exchanged quick glances hesitating before Sam’s voice rang out once more. “My name is Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean. Our mom was killed by a demon and that made our dad become a hunter. We’ve been hunting basically all our lives,” he said briskly, keeping it short and to the point.

Lillian nodded silently, taking a long swig of her own beer before clearing her throat, “And what about you? I take it you’re not a Winchester?” She said, pointing in Valac’s direction.

Valac took a few breaths, quietly debating his answer to himself. In his hands he still held the chilled beer, simply looking at its defrosting bottle. “Nah,” he said at last, “You can call me Valac.” With that, he looked directly up at Lillian holding her stare vigorously.

Lillian tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, taking a seat at the far end of the table from where the others sat. “So tell me Valac, are you a dry man?” she questioned suspiciously, nodding in the direction of his unopened beer.

A lopsided grin spread over Valac’s lips, as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh believe me, I love to drink up a storm,” he replied, chuckling somewhat.

“Cheers to that,” Dean interrupted, sensing the building tension between hunter and demon. He watched as everyone raised their bottles to his abrupt toast, Lillian and Valac’s eyes still glued upon each other.

Valac twisted the cap off his beer with no trouble, hesitantly gazing into the liquid – he knew indefinitely what was next to come. Still, he raised the glass to his lips, drinking a large mouthful. Almost instantly there came a burning sensation, in which he had to spit the Holified liquid out. His lips fizzed as he choked and coughed. “You’re a demon?!” Lillian shouted, though it was more of a statement than a question at this point.

In the blink of an eye, Lillian had pulled two guns from holsters at her side, aiming them directly for Valac. Valac meanwhile pulled out his own piece, aiming it back at her. Likewise Sam and Dean quickly whipped out their own weaponry, Dean aiming for Valac while Sam aimed for Lillian.

“Let’s not do anything hasty now, children,” Valac spoke, his voice stern with authority. His eyes were dark and soulless as he gazed at each hunter individually.

“Yeah?” Lillian challenged, arching an eyebrow, “And give me just one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your head off right here and now, you demonic son of a bitch.”

Valac looked slightly taken aback, but quickly recovered. He retorted, “Come now, you don’t even know me and you’re already making assumptions! Besides, let’s not forget how perfect you are there, Lenore.”

Sam and Dean exchanged confused glancing, neither one daring to speak a word as this conflict raged on between hunter and demon. “What are you talking about?” Lillian hissed through clenched teeth.

“Lenore Anderson – typical housewife, expecting mother. Otherwise known as the town loon,” Valac spat, arising swiftly from the table, “You kept telling people that there was something wrong with dear old Adam, that Adam wasn’t quite Adam anymore. And you were right, Adam hadn’t been your husband for a very long time. No Adam was a demon, a demon that you stabbed in the heart because you didn’t know what else to do. Because you were afraid.”

“Shut up,” Lillian threatened, standing from her own seat.

“You got off on self-defense, that was luck. But, instead of accepting that the rain clouds had passed, you kept ranting on and on about how there was something different about your baby. She wasn’t quite, how should we say, normal,” Valac continued, edging closer to Lillian with every step.

Lillian grasped her guns even tighter in her hands now, her veins beginning to stand out noticeably from the flesh of her hands. “Shut up, just shut up!” she hollered at him, squeezing at the triggers vigorously.

“No!” Valac protested, stepping almost directly in front of Lillian’s gun barrels, “You try to deny it, you try to pretend it was all just a bad dream, but the simple fact of it is you’re a coward Lillian!”

“No, that’s not true!” Lillian argued, her face only inches from Valac’s now.

“It is and you know it is! You couldn’t handle what happened and so you gave Lauren up, with nowhere to go. You abandoned her!!” Valac screamed, screamed directly in Lillian’s face.

“No!!” Lillian cried out, socking Valac in the jaw before punching a blow to his stomach, causing the demon to topple over. Next she pointed her gun and fired – One! Two! Three! Three shots, one miss and two to Valac’s right knee.

Dean hopped up, slamming Lillian in the side before twisting her arms around in which to collect her guns. Sam meanwhile, threw his own weapon aside to aid Valac who cringed on the floor in even more pain than before. After retrieving her guns, Dean wrapped himself around Lillian in attempts to remove her from the scene. She turned to shout over Dean’s shoulder, “You bastard! I had no choice, I had no choice!” She continued her cries and sobs even as Dean led her away.

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Lauren’s vision was hazy as she gazed up at the ceiling atop her. The world was spinning and she was unable to keep her eyes open for more than a few minutes before her body forced them to shut once more. She let out a deep sigh, weakly raising her hands to feel the wedge of rock salt which was lodged in her stomach. A sudden surge of pain coursed through her body as she felt the wound, causing her to shut her eyelids even tighter.

With an unexpected stale feeling in the air, Lauren knew that her master had returned. “Alastair,” she muttered, reaching a hand up blindly towards the almighty demon.

Though she could see nor feel him, his presence was strongly affecting her. Lauren visibly flinched as the demon crouched down beside her, overlooking her injury with milky white eyes. Gripping the chunk of rock salt firmly with one hand, he held her body against the wall as he yanked vigorously. Lauren cried out in pain, gripping Alastair’s dress shirt with a bloody hand. She was lucky, the entire piece had come out with one pull. Alastair arose somewhat, extending a hand out in which to help her up.

Lauren blinked vigorously as her ability to see clearly was returning slowly but surely. She grasped her master’s hand gratefully, heaving over almost as soon as she began to stand. She whimper yet again over the massive agony within her, feeling the warmth of her blood spilling down her body. “Calm down, my dear,” Alastair muttered quietly, grasping Lauren by the shoulders in which to make her stand properly, “It’s just a flesh wound. Your newfound abilities will heal it quickly.”

Almost as if on cue, Lauren could feel her skin beginning to stitch itself back together, the blood obliterating into pure nothingness. She lifted her still blood stained shirt up in which to gaze upon her stomach, flat and smooth. As her mouth hung open in slight awe, Lauren ran a hand slowly up and down over her soft skin. Without even thinking she then reached out for Alastair’s hand, having him touch her flesh as well.

Alastair furrowed his brow suspiciously, glaring at his new apprentice strangely. Almost bitterly he snatched his hand away, turning on one heel prepared to stroll down the hallway. “Come, we have much to do,” he commanded, walking steadily away from Lauren.

Lauren covered her stomach once more with her shirt, chasing eagerly down the corridor after Alastair. As soon as she had caught up to him, the demon simply snapped his fingers and they were instantly transported back to her home. And they teleportation is reserved for the angels, Lauren mused to herself, smiling devilishly at the thought.

Alastair meanwhile approached her kitchen pouring himself a shot glass of scotch in which he swallowed like water. He then proceeded to pour yet another, following another, and one more. Once he’d had his fill, he simply grasped the counter’s angrily, muttering over his shoulder, “Your first assignment and you allow Dean to escape. How disappointing.”

Lauren gritted her teeth. How was she supposed to have known mommy dearest would drop in? This was ludicrous! “Lenore shot me with a rocket launcher! What exactly was I supposed to do?” she exclaimed defensively.

“Excuses, excuses,” Alastair murmured wickedly, feasting upon one further glass of scotch.

Lauren took a few heated steps towards Alastair, folding her arms tightly over her chest. “Tell me, just what do you plan on doing with the Winchester once you have him within your grasp?” she asked smugly.

Alastair sighed wearily, returning the shot glass to its proper place upon the countertop. He grin pleasantly to himself before responding, “All good things to those who wait. When I have Dean where I want him, all the pieces will fit together.”

“Is that so?” Lauren challenged.

“That’s so,” Alastair replied simply, his back still turned to her as he spoke.

Seeing as she was going to get nowhere with her master at this rate, Lauren cleared her throat allowing seduction to creep into her tone and make it gentle and attractive. “Oh Alastair,” she sighed wistfully, “has anyone told you just how tense your back is? How the muscles seem to cramp together?” Taking only a few steps forward she gently ran her hands along the demon’s spine, hoping it would bring shivers to his insides.

Alastair chuckled somewhat, “My dear, no one has had the privilege of coming this close without a blade plunged deep beneath their skin. Get to your point.”

“Oh I will,” Lauren murmured, her voice barely grazing a whisper, “All good things to those who wait, remember?” With that, she took hold of Alastair’s earlobe between her teeth and bit down gently.

Alastair turned to face her, breaking her suggestive suckling abruptly. “What are you mistaking me for?” he spat harshly, his teeth twisted into a most bitter frown, “I will not be a part of your whore-ish games.”

Lauren frowned at his insult, taking a step away from Alastair. “Fine, have it your way. Pull that stick outta your ass while you’re at it,” she retorted.

With a movement so swift, so rapid, Alastair had his fingers clenched tightly around Lauren’s throat lifting her inches from the ground. “You mind your tone with me, Lauren,” he warned sternly, “Don’t forget, I’m the who’s created you. It will do me no shame to order you a one way ticket to the pit, my darling.”

Lauren flailed her legs, choking and sputtering as she tried to break free from her master’s grip. Instead his hold upon her throat only tightened, and she could feel the circulation beginning to cut off. “Al- alright,” she managed to stammer, “Alright!” With one last usage of extreme pressure, Alastair released Lauren and watched as she coughed and spewed.

Steadily, he turned back towards the counter, sipping another large portion of alcohol. He’d had quite a difficulty locking onto the Winchesters location before, no doubt this time would prove as a challenge as well. Unless, unless Lauren might remember where dear old Lenore resides.

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Valac took a long swig from the whiskey bottle before slamming down on the nearby table. Sam, meanwhile, sat across from the demon working vigorously to remove the bullets from his knee. The young hunter hesitated with the tweezers as he eyed the wound.

“Just do it,” Valac growled somewhat through clenched teeth.

With that permission, Sam dug the metal tool into the demon’s leg, maneuvering it to pull the bullet out as quickly as possible. With a thud, the bullet came crashing into the metal pan beside Sam. One down, one to go. Sam sighed wearily as he moved in for the next one. “You should really go to a hospital,” he muttered.

“Nah,” Valac retorted, “My powers are just taking a little longer than usual. Being blasted back to the pit is probably screwing with’em is all.”

“Speaking of that,” Sam asked, digging in deeper to Valac’s leg, “How’d you get back so fast.”

Valac slammed his fit down on the table, his muscles tense which of course only caused more blood to spill over his leg. Cursing under his breath, he cleared his throat in attempts to speak at least semi-normally, “Let’s just say practice makes perfect. Lots and lots of practice.”

Sam took a moment to debate the demon’s answer, finally freeing the bullet from the place in which it had been lodged in his knee. “Got it!” he exclaimed, clanking it beside the other one in the pan. Then, he swiftly fetched a damp cloth and some bandages in which to clean the wound.

“Hey, Sam,” Valac murmured, his voice low and evidently tired.

Sam looked up from his work, gazing upon the demon suspiciously. “Yeah?”

“Thanks – really, thank you,” Valac cleared his throat awkwardly, unwilling to break their stare.

Sam simply smiled, going about this whole dressing business as usual. At last when he’d finished he wrapped a fair amount of white linen around Valac’s knee making it appear large and bulky. The hunter’s eyes widened in shock however as he caught sight of the demon’s torso – a fair amount of red was seeping through the thin fabric of Valac’s t-shirt. “You’re bleeding,” Sam said, his mouth hanging slightly in awe.

Valac glanced down at this torso wincing in pain as he lifted his shirt up slightly. Revealed were extremely deep slashes across his stomach, a thick red crimson spilling from the wounds. Valac grasped the injured skin vigorously, trying to keep the blood contained. “Sam,” he gasped breathlessly, “Help me.”

Sam was quickly at the demon’s side, helping to lower him onto the floor in which to get a better look at Valac’s stomach. “I got’cha, easy now. Easy,” Sam soothed, clenching Valac’s shoulder for support. Sam began to place pressure on the wounds himself, but that did little good as his own hands were soon stained with Valac’s blood.

For the briefest of moments, Sam simply stared at the shiny liquid which coated his hands. Something deep within the pit of his stomach wrenched just at the sight, a faint voice in his head telling him to lick the blood from his fingers, to enjoy this newly presented buffet. “Sam,” Valac called out again, this time more desperate than before.

“Right,” Sam replied, shaking his head vigorously, as he was brought back to reality. He wasn’t going to give in, that was ludicrous. He retrieved some more bandages from a nearby storage cabinet, tearing off Valac’s soaked shirt first and foremost, before making a thick dressing which nearly covered the demon’s entire torso.

Still, it was peculiar why that thought hadn’t entered his mind before – drinking Valac’s blood. If they were indeed going to have to go up against Alastair again, Sam would probably need practice. How else were they going to beat him? There really was no other way, especially now that Lauren was on his side. The only trouble with getting rid of Ruby though, now Sam didn’t have a teacher to help him re-learn his abilities. Most importantly, now he didn’t have a necessarily willing donor either.

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Lillian sat crunched against the wall, her knees tucked snuggly up towards her chest in which to rest her chin upon. Dean, meanwhile, just continued to pace back and forth. Back. And. Forth. “Will you take a seat already? You’re making me nervous,” Lillian grumbled finally, after an extremely long and awkward silence.

“Sorry,” Dean retorted, “Gotta make sure you’re not gonna take off after Valac again.” With that, he plopped down onto the floor as well, sitting directly across from her.

Lillian snorted somewhat, wiping the last remnants of tears from underneath her eyes. “I don’t get it,” she cleared her throat.

“Get what?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

Lillian threw her arms into the air in exasperation. “Why are you helping him?!” she spat, “I mean, what the hell could possibly be in it for you?”

Dean chuckled somewhat, picking at her fingernails. He debated his answer silently to himself for a moment, purposefully avoiding her eye contact. “He’s helping us,” Dean replied briskly.

Lillian licked her lips, arching an eyebrow in suspicion. She asked, “How?”

Dean sighed, placing his head in his hands in which to run his fingertips lightly through the strands of his hair. “It’s a long story,” he muttered.

“From what I understand, we got plenty of time,” Lillian retorted angrily, “Get to it, son.”

Dean looked her straight in the eye, beginning his long tale of how he and Sam had gotten to the mess they found themselves in now, “You ever hear of the crossroads? You know, making a deal with the devil?”

“Yeah,” Lillian said, her brow creasing with concern as the Winchester continued his story.

“Bout three or so years ago,” Dean cleared his throat, hunching forward somewhat, “Sammy was stabbed. Some demon had teleported him to this rundown ghost town, and another guy there stabbed him in the back – clear through the spine. Anyhow I, I just couldn’t let him die, you know? I mean, he’s my little brother. Isn’t that what I’m here for, to watch over him?”

“Dean, that may be so, but that doesn’t mean you have to give your soul over to Hell,” Lillian soothed, feeling suddenly broken as tears began to well up in Dean’s eyes.

“But I did. I didn’t care, this is Sam we’re talking about,” Dean cleared his throat, choking about the emotion that was threatening to overtake him, “And you know what? If I had to do it all over again, I’d make the same call.”

Lillian stared blankly at the younger hunter for a moment, this was unfathomable. “And what was that call?” she whispered, leaning somewhat closer to Dean.

“We stood to fight, but in the end we ran. We tried to escape the hounds – damn things are so fast. Next thing I know, I’m waking up to darkness. Just pure black at first,” Dean shook his head, slowly back and forth recalling upon each devastating memory as he spoke.

Lillian’s eyes widened in horror. She asked breathlessly, “You were in Hell?” Dean nodded silently in response, not trusting his own voice enough to speak. “What – how did you escape?”

“I didn’t,” Dean muttered simply, “An angel pulled me out.” With those last words he turned to face Lillian, looking her dead in the eye.

“No, no there’s no such thing,” Lillian argued, furrowing her brow.

“Believe me, there is,” Dean urged, snickering somewhat, “Up until now, I wouldn’t have believed it either.”

“Okay, let’s say there is,” Lillian licked her lips delicately as she spoke, “Why you? I mean, not to say you deserve Hell necessarily, but why you specifically?”

Dean returned his gaze towards the floor once more, feeling suddenly ashamed. He wasn’t upset with Lillian, he did deserve Hell and he knew it. Nothing could change the God-awful things he’d done in the pit – in his mindset, he was still better off rotting there. “That’s where Valac comes in,” Dean cleared his throat yet again, his voice scratchy as he spoke, “See, there was one demon who could tear you apart. Really get under your skin, you know? They called him Alastair.” Dean shivered as his old master’s name rolled off his tongue – he felt terrified.

“Alastair, Alastair. Never heard of him,” Lillian mumbled.

“Nah, I didn’t think you would. Anyway, Alastair would always make me an offer to stop torturing me, if I’d start torturing others,” Dean continued.

Lillian shifted uncomfortably in her seat, she beginning to dislike the direction in which this conversation was going. “You said no, of course,” she assumed.

“For a while,” Dean avoided her curious gaze, “But time, it passes differently there. Months fly by like decades, it’s impossible to really track the days. But I did, and for thirty years I told that bastard I’d rather be carved like a piece of meat. Until one day, I just couldn’t hold on.”

Lillian’s voice was barely audible as she spoke, “You said yes, didn’t you?”

“You can only imagine what I did then,” Dean responded equally hushed as he met judging stare, “Just let me say that I regret it. Every damn day I regret it – and now it’s back to haunt me.”

Lillian couldn’t help but notice Dean’s voice shaking as he finished his sentence, a light sweat beginning to dampen upon his brow. “Alastair’s back to haunt you, isn’t he?” she clarified.

“Yes,” Dean murmured, his throat extremely tight and constricting.

“And so you think Valac can help you?” Lillian continued. Dean was about to open his mouth in which to speak, when suddenly the air in the room was disturbed. With the sound of whooshing feathers, Castiel appeared before the two hunters looking beaten and drained – very drained indeed. “Who are you?!” Lillian shouted, pointing her gun directly at the angel.

Castiel eyed Lillian’s gun wearily, looking as though he were about to smite the thing simply with his eyes. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean interrupted, hopping up quickly, “Don’t shoot, this is the angel.”

Castiel frowned at Dean, a little taken aback at how the hunter had referred to him as “the angel”. Lillian immediately lowered her weapon, gaping in awe at the creature before her. Reaching a single hand up towards his face, she ran her fingertips over his stubble covered cheek, examining his luscious blue eyes. “You’re an angel?” she whispered gently.

“Castiel,” he clarified, “You’re Lenore Anderson. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to sit down.”

“Cas, you okay?” Dean questioned, his brow creasing in confusion.

Castiel shrugged as he lowered himself slowly onto the ground below. “That is debatable,” he said.

“What the Hell happened to you?” Dean asked, crouching down beside the angel.

“Lauren, she teleported me very far. It was almost like she cloaked you, I was unable to reach even your cell phone,” Castiel cleared his throat.

Dean reached in his pocket, pulling out his phone. The screen was blank, and so he flipped it open and proceeded to press the reset button. When that tactic failed to work, he tapped it lightly against his hand. “Damn thing’s dead,” he muttered, frowning at the cellular device.

“That’s strange,” Castiel said, leaning in closer to the hunter in which to look upon the screen. As if that were any excuse, Castiel simply enjoyed being able to be within Dean’s personal boundaries and not get in trouble for it.

Suddenly Lillian chimed in, “Not really.”

“What do you mean?” Dean questioned, glancing up over his shoulder at the elder hunter.

“Well you said Alastair was trying to hunt you down, right?” She replied, folding her arms across her chest.

Dean frowned, still perplexed, “So?”

“So,” Lillian cleared her throat, “I don’t know about you, but if I were trying to capture my prey I’m pretty sure it would make things a lot easier if they were alone. Unreachable.”

Dean and Castiel turned to face each other, Lillian’s point finally sinking in. “Isolation,” they both muttered in unison.


	9. Chapter 9

“So let me get this straight, you think Alastair is trying to isolate you? To keep you from everyone else?” Sam furrowed his brow, pacing the floor of the bunker.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Sammy,” Dean replied, letting out an exasperated sigh.

Sam just glanced at his brother awkwardly. “But why?” he questioned, “I mean, what does he get out of this?”

Dean sat thoughtfully for a moment, murmuring at last, “Well, he’s always been a greedy bastard.”

Sam snorted, “But that still doesn’t explain the motive behind it.”

“It’s freaking brilliant, that’s what it is,” Valac suddenly chimed in, leaning forward on the chair upon which he sat.

“And why is that?” Lillian glared at the demon viciously, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

“Well just think about it for a second,” Valac implored, “The world is quite literally going to Hell. If Dean was so talented downstairs, then Alastair probably wants his own little slice of heaven. So to speak.”

Dean opened his mouth as though her were about to speak, quickly closing it. He was not at liberty to discuss his disturbing work in the depths of the pit. Just then, Castiel cleared his throat stepping forth, “Valac makes a very true point. Alastair just wants what is rightfully his to begin with.”

“What is that supposed to mean exactly?” Sam asked, looking slightly taken aback at the angel’s words.

Castiel licked his lips delicately, thoughtful of his next response, “Lilith originally held Dean’s contract, ultimately turning it over to Alastair upon Dean’s arrival to the rack. It only makes sense that Dean’s soul would therefore still technically be the demon’s to do with as he pleased.”

Sam’s eyes widened, his mouth gaping open somewhat in awe. “What about you though?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side, furrowing his brow in that adorable puppy-dog manner. “What about me?” he echoed.

“You’re an angel, you ripped Dean from Hell. You stitched his soul back together,” Sam gasped.

Castiel let out a weary sigh, admitting a true defeat of his heart, “That may be so, but it matters little in comparison to the amount of Dean’s tormented soul Alastair holds within his possession.”

Sam’s eyes drooped with some unspoken sadness, he just wasn’t about to accept that Dean was Alastair’s. No way. “But, but you’re intertwined. You’re a, an angel—,”

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel shook his head, interrupting the currently dumbfounded hunter.

“Alright, can we move on from whether or not I’m Heaven or Hell’s bitch please?” Dean suddenly spoke out, his voice sounding a bit grimmer than he would’ve really preferred.

“You’re still someone’s bitch,” Valac chuckled, snickering evilly.

“Anyway,” Lillian coughed obnoxiously, “This Alastair character is going to be coming for Dean, no?”

Sam sighed, “That’s my best guess.”

“Well then, I guess we better get this place prepared. Sam, I want you to go through and mark some devil’s traps around the place. Dean, you and demon boy here start loading ammunition, and I guess I’ll line the doors.”

“Right,” Sam replied, heading towards one of the nearby cabinets in which to search for some kind of spray paint.

“Shit,” Dean suddenly spat out.

“What?” both Lillian and Valac asked in unison.

“My guns are back in my trunk,” Dean muttered, feeling terrible for leaving his baby behind.

Lillian placed her hands impatiently on her hips. “Have you seen the armory I have stashed in the van?” she raised her eyebrows in sarcasm.

Dean slipped on his jacket, popping up the collar. “I just like my own guns is all.”

“Suck it up,” Lillian chuckled somewhat, patting the elder Winchester lightly on the shoulder as he walked past her towards the door.

“Perhaps I should go with him?” Castiel inquired, eagerly edging towards the direction in which Dean was headed for.

“He’ll be fine,” Lillian replied, “Besides, I could really use your help with the salt.” Castiel nodded silently, following her into a lonely back room which had shelves that were stocked with canned goods and other non-perishable items. In the corner there were a few large bags of rock salt, in which Lillian slid one over for the angel. She grunted somewhat as she picked up one that was only halfway full, Castiel lifting an entirely filled bag without even the slightest of hassle. Lillian just grinned to herself, shaking her head slowly. Damn angel, showing off, she thought.

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“Think harder,” Alastair commanded, leaning in even closer towards Lauren who sat across from him at the table.

“I’m trying,” Lauren gritted her teeth in response, “Your nagging really doesn’t help, you know.”

“Come now, there must be something in which to stimulate you. A photograph perhaps?” Alastair mused, now tapping his fingers lightly on the table top.

“You do realize I never knew my birth mother growing up, right?” Lauren snapped, looking her master dead in the eye.

“Touchy, touchy,” Alastair snickered to himself.

Lauren looked as though she were about to open her mouth in which to yell at him, when quickly her eyes caught focus on something towards the back hallway. Rising swiftly from the table, she strode down the small corridor until reaching a picture that clung to the wall. “Could it really be that simple?” she murmured.

“What is it?” Alastair asked, pushing out his own chair before joining her at her side.

“An old bomb shelter,” she replied, touching her fingertips lightly to the portrait’s protective glass, “They were popular back in the early fifties all the way through the sixties really.”

“I realize,” Alastair rolled his eyes impatiently, “What significance does it have?”

“Lenore purchased an abandoned bomb shelter shortly after becoming a hunter. I should know, she tried to fucking exorcise me there,” Lauren snorted somewhat.

Alastair’s lips curled up into a devilish smile, lightly placing a hand on his apprentice’s shoulder. “Très beau travail,” (nice work) he praised, his voice low and monotone. Lauren could feel a slight grin pull at the corners of her own mouth, wanting to turn swiftly in which to face the almighty demon behind her. She wanted to turn and touch him, caress his torso with her fingertips so gently. She wanted to show him the tenderness he’d probably never felt before, fill him with unexpected sensations of peace. But she refrained, instead only waiting until he took a few steps away from her to actually turn around herself. Lauren had learned her lesson, which boundaries to cross and which not, and she was not about to make that same mistake all over again. “Come,” Alastair cleared his throat, “We have much work to do.”

Lauren said nothing, simply and obediently following the almighty demon out her front door. “It should be about twenty minutes north from here,” she explained, “If I remember correctly.” Outstretching his arm, Lauren grasped it firmly wrapping her fingers around the partially exposed skin in which his rolled sleeve did not cover. With a sudden whoosh of air they were gone, as if they had never been.

Meanwhile, Dean had made his way up the small flights of stairs of the bunker at last to Lillian’s van. Sliding open the side door, Dean opened a small knapsack he’d found and began to search for guns and other weapons which could be of some use to them. He cursed lightly under his breath as he stuffed the ammo in the bag, Valac’s help would be very useful right about now. Slinging the now rather heavy bag over his shoulder, Dean slammed the van door shut once more and turned to make his way back down the bunker’s stairs. His feet crunched lightly on the gravel, stopping abruptly as his stomach lurched.

“Hello there, Dean,” Alastair’s voice rang out from behind the hunter.

Dean’s eyes flashed wide with horror, feeling as though his legs were going to give out on him. Swallowing hard, Dean took a deep breath before muttering slowly, “Alastair.” Luckily his voice had come out sounding stronger than he felt, because as Dean turned to face his old master he could see the demon smiling sickly at him.

Just beyond his shoulder, Dean could see Lauren standing beside him like a good little guard dog her eyes that dark and radiant blue. “Gotta say, you’re looking well my boy,” Alastair continued, taking a leisurely step forward, “How long has it been?”

“Not long enough,” Dean sneered, feeling every instinct in his body telling him to run. To run as far and as fast as he could away from Alastair. Relying on those intuitions to guide his next move, Dean turned beginning to run down the long stairwell. Behind him he could hear Alastair’s malicious laugh echoing loudly in the still air. And suddenly, there were footsteps trailing him – through the parking lot and down the first flight of stairs. Down, down, down, speeding through the shadowed corridor. Dean couldn’t even tell that the door was so close until he actually ran into it. He let out a loud gasp as his body hit the chilled metal, pounding his fist against it rapid hits. “Sammy, Sammy! Let me in! It’s Alastair, let me in! Let me in!!” Dean hollered at the top of his lungs. His voice cracked as he shrieked, but he could care less right about now.

“Hey, we need help in here!” Valac called, listening to Dean’s frantic pleas. When no one responded, the demon himself arose from his chair steadily hobbling over to the door. He nearly fell over as he reached its archway, slamming his hand quickly on the red button in which to open the door.

Dean instantly fell through the opening, crashing upon the salt line before sliding backwards somewhat. Sam and Lillian came running into the scene just in time. “Dean!” Sam yelped, running quickly to aid his brother.

“Fix the salt line, don’t let it break!” Lillian shouted, also darting towards the area in which the eldest Winchester lay.

Dean attempted desperately to crawl backwards closer to Sam’s hands which were grasping his shoulders. Lauren grabbed hold of his ankles though, pulling him back out towards the shadows. Towards his doom. Sam clenched Dean tighter, heaving his brother back inside with all his strength. “Sam!” Dean cried, “Don’t let go!”

But Sam’s grip was slipping and even Dean knew that. Lillian came to Sam’s side, also pulling on Dean but it was little use. Just then, Alastair’s shrill laugh echoed through the stairwell until finally the demon was visible. Dean felt his throat close up instantly, his lungs threatening to collapse at the lack of oxygen he was receiving. Silently, Alastair raised his hand causing everyone to be smashed back against the wall. Both Sam and Lillian let out pained gasps, Valac cringing as new blood began to seep through his bandages. Dean, meanwhile, still lay on the floor below pinned in place.

“Th- that’s Alastair?” Lillian stuttered in shear horror.

“The one and only, my dear,” Alastair returned smugly, shifting his eyes into their piercing white state. Lillian visibly shuddered – she’d known about demons, Hell she hunted them, but this was beyond her. Beyond anything she’d ever dealt with, and it was all becoming just a little more than she could handle. “And you must be Lenore,” he continued, repositioning his eyes back to their deceivingly human appearance, “So good of you to have such a special child.” With that, he glanced back over his shoulder, giving Lauren a praise-worthy smile.

“I never wanted this for her,” Lillian choked, salty tears beginning to flow to her eyes.

“Yeah, well next time you should finish the job,” Lauren glared viciously, taking a step closer to her mother who clung to the wall, “Tell me, do you know what it’s like to feel pain? To have it corroding away at you every single day?” With that, Lauren withdrew a dagger and plunged it into Lillian’s shoulder, twisting it without mercy. Lillian whimpered in pain, at which Lauren only drew closer. “This is nothing compared to what you put me through.”

“Oh enough already!” Dean dared to speak out. Lauren suddenly turned to face the limp hunter, cocking an eyebrow suspiciously at him. “Boohoo, mommy hurt your feelings. Get over it and shut your freaking pile hole!”

Lauren gritted her teeth, looking at Dean viciously. She went to take a step towards the hunter, when Alastair placed an outstretched arm before her. “That is enough,” he commanded. She hesitated, before doing as Alastair said and bit back her anger.

Walking with light weighted steps, Alastair quickly approached his former pupil who lay on the floor helpless and simply divine. Slowly he crouched down, smiling suspiciously at the hunter. “So?” Dean snarled, the anxiousness he felt in the pit of his stomach clearly showing in his tone.

“So what, dearest Dean?” Alastair toyed with false innocence.

“How the Hell’d you get back?” Dean demanded, his upper lip quivering slightly as he spoke, “Sam fried your ass, I know he did.”

Alastair glanced over his shoulder, watching Sam with a piercing glare. Turning back to Dean he smiled sickly, “Guess Luci just owed me a favor.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Dean snapped, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“I told you once and I’ll tell you again Deano, breaking the first seal, well, that was the first step,” Alastair explained, delighted as he watched Dean shiver against his words, “Gotta climb one step at a time if you want to reach the top, I suppose. But you really don’t think work like that goes unnoticed do you? No, Lucifer owes me credit first and foremost. And you too, really.”

“Alastair!” Castiel’s voice suddenly echoed from across the room, “I’ll give you credit!” The demon’s face fell as he saw a powerful banishing sigil painted on the wall in the angel’s blood. Before Alastair even had time to react though, Castiel smashed his hand to the wall and a flare of light enveloped the room.

Sam, Lillian, and Valac all fell to the floor but not before all supernatural forces within the room were obviated – Castiel included. Sam blinked vigorously, trying his best to regain his vision. He shook Lillian lightly by the shoulders to make sure she was alright. “Lillian, Lillian,” he murmured softly.

Lillian let out a drained sigh, her eyelids fluttering open ever slowly. “I’m fine Sam,” she managed with a raspy voice, “Check Dean.”

Sam did as he was instructed, quickly scrambling to his feet and walking unsteadily over to Dean’s location. Slowly he crouched down beside Dean who had his eyes shut tightly, his fists balled up so much that his knuckles were turning white. “Dean?” Sam said, leaning in close to his brother, “Dean, are you okay?”

Dean swallowed hard, remaining silent for a moment longer as he did not even trust his own voice. He kept his eyes closed intently, not wanting to unwind. Not wanting to let himself be at peace or to even relax because Dean had learned that just when you calmed down, just when you thought the monster was gone, it always came back. Dean had his shield up once more and this time he was never going to let it down. Never, ever – if he had his way, that is. “Sam,” Dean muttered, his voice barely audible.

“Yeah Dean, I’m here,” Sam soothed, placing a comforting hand on Dean’s ever tense shoulder.

“Sam, please,” Dean continued, his voice coming out as though he were hysteric as Sam thought he was.

“Dean what it is? What do you want?” Sam urged, his voice becoming a bit needier by the moment.

Dean allowed his eyes to open at last, realizing that this protective wall of his would do no good if he couldn’t see. He dared to gaze at his brother for a moment before whispering, “Sammy, please, just leave me alone.” With that, he clenched his arms around himself, turning on the floor away from Sam. Sam just watched as Dean curled his knees up close to his chest, like a small infant in the womb. Or a toddler longing for its mother. And in this instance, Dean seemed quite like the child himself – so scared, so unsure. Sam couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He wanted to cling to his brother, to hold him in his arms and tell him it was going to be alright, that they were going to make it safe and sound. But Dean had asked him to leave him be, and so Sam did. Because he loved Dean, because Dean was his big brother.

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The day seemed to linger on as the dusk began to settle over the land. Lillian, Sam, and Dean had migrated to a nearby motel in town in which Sam had taken to constructing hex bags for their protection. Dean, meanwhile, had curled up on one of the beds and quickly fell asleep.

“How’d you even learn how to make these anyway?” Lillian asked.

Sam glanced up from his work, eyeing Lillian hesitantly. “Uh, a demon taught me actually,” he chuckled somewhat, slightly embarrassed by such a sad answer.

Lillian laughed lightheartedly, helping Sam finish the last bag by tying a thin strip of leather around the top of the sack. She cleared her throat though, continuing, “So this isn’t the first time you’ve trusted a demon then I take it?”

“No,” Sam clarified, “Once before. And believe me, I regret it.”

As if on cue, Castiel suddenly appeared within the room, a very weak Valac clinging to his side. “Sam, please help me,” Castiel murmured, leaning Valac partially on the hunter’s side as he approached.

“What the Hell did you even do?” Sam gasped, helping to lower Valac onto the nearby bed.

“I used a Tutaminis Flatus sigil,” Castiel grumbled, settling himself onto a chair.

“A Tutaminis Flatus sigil?” Lillian echoed, eyeing the angel quizzically.

“It forces all supernatural powers to flee and scatter,” Castiel explained, “Demons and angels.”

Sam placed his hands on his hips, scratching his head in slight confusion. “But wait, why would that affect Lauren?” he asked.

“Well, Lauren’s all mega demon now,” Valac sighed, shifting himself upward, “Guess it just makes as much sense as any.”

Lillian turned to face the demon, glaring daggers at him. She threatened, “Watch it, that’s my daughter you’re talking about.”

“Like you’ve ever cared about her up until now,” Valac snorted sarcastically.

Lillian crossed her arms tightly over her chest, saying through gritted teeth, “You know, you’re really pushing it pal.”

“Oh yeah? Well then bring it on!” Valac taunted.

Lillian lunged forward, but not before both Castiel and Sam could jump between them. Castiel placed his hands roughly on her forearms, Sam shielding Valac who sat smugly on the bed. “That’s enough,” Castiel said, trying to be as patient as possible, but it was little use, “I said enough!” Everyone stopped almost immediately at the sound of the angel’s booming voice. Castiel cleared his throat, “Now then, we mustn’t argue amidst ourselves. We still have to figure out how to protect Dean from Alastair.”

“Cas is right,” Sam admitted, letting out a weary sigh.

“Well, you can all go ahead with your suicide plan,” Dean suddenly grumbled from behind them, “But I’m just not gonna bother.”

Everyone turned to face the elder Winchester who was at the moment loading up a shotgun with rock salt. Sam frowned, taking a step closer to his brother. “Dean, what is that supposed to mean?” he asked, fearful of the answer.

Dean just looked up at Sam, gazing intently at him for a moment. “I’m tired,” he said at last.

Sam’s expression looked as though he’d just been bitch slapped. The young hunter stumbled on his words for a moment before gasping, “You’re not honestly giving up?!”

“I dunno what else to do, Sammy,” Dean retorted, his voice tired. Broken.

“Dean,” Sam pleaded, taking yet another step towards his brother, “You can’t give in to Alastair.”

Dean almost glared at his brother, his jaw tightening in anger. “I never said anything about giving in to that son of a bitch,” Dean almost growled.

“Then what? You’re just gonna go crawl in a whole somewhere?” Lillian butted in.

“Maybe,” Dean replied quietly, “I dunno.”

Sam shook his head, “I don’t freaking believe this.”

“Yeah, well you better start believing it,” Dean grumbled, turning away from the group in which to collect his pistol from under his pillow.

No one dared to speak for a moment, a thick and unnerving silence settling amongst the room. Suddenly, Castiel lunged forward from his position, grasping Dean firmly by the jacket and slamming the hunter into the nearby wall. Sam looked as though he were about to pull the angel off his brother, but Lillian grabbed a hold of him before he even had a chance to move. Eagerly, Castiel turned Dean to face him smashing Dean against the wall once more, not caring when the hunter gasped out in pain.

“Cas, what the Hell?!” Dean grunted, trying to free himself from the angel’s hold.

At this, Castiel lifted a fist before plunging it into the side of Dean’s face. Sam struggled against Lillian’s grasp but still she held him steady. “Have you no common sense?!” Castiel hollered, before forcing another blow, “Look at me when I talk to you, Dean Winchester!”

Dean eyed the angel wearily, a small trail of blood beginning to drizzle from his lower lip. “Let me go!” Sam shouted, trying his best to wriggle free from Lillian.

“Cas, what’s your problem!” Dean hollered, turning his face away as the angel leaned in so close he could feel Castiel’s breath on his cheek.

“That’s a good question,” Castiel almost growled in response, “Considering I was going to ask you the same thing. You really think this is how wars are won? By heroes turning to run? To hide?!”

“I’m not a freaking hero!” Dean shouted, actually turning back to face Castiel with rage in his eyes.

It was surprising just how close they had become and how no one dare say anything about the personal space limits which were indefinitely being crossed here. If not for the situation, Castiel would’ve delighted himself in this position, but still he kept his mask of fury about him. “If you’re not, then who is?” the angel challenged, “Who else do you know who is more fit for the fight?! I know no greater hero than you.”

Dean’s face softened instantly at Castiel’s words, his muscles becoming visibly relaxed. “But I, I’m just a man,” Dean mumbled, his eyes looking glossy and doe-like.

Castiel clarified, “A man with a destiny ahead of him.”

In this instant, Castiel’s words clashed inside Dean’s head like the battle between Heaven and Hell itself. He heard Castiel’s encouragement, but he also heard Alastair’s torment. About how he wouldn’t make it, about how he wasn’t strong enough. About how part of his soul still lay battered in Hell. And this, all this, just wanted to make Dean scream. To cry, even. Just to melt in his angel’s arms and cry his arms out. Allowing his head to hang low, a single crystal tear fell from the hunter’s eye and quickly streamed down his cheek. “But I’m not whole. I’m not, I’m not—,”

With a movement so swift, Castiel raised two fingers to Dean’s head and the hunter was out cold without another word. Like a rock, he came crashing down onto Castiel’s shoulder, in which the angel cradled him there like a child for a moment longer. Then, still with movements so tender, he returned the hunter to his place atop the bed and settled him into a simple long ways position. At last Lillian allowed Sam to be free in which the hunter nearly tripped towards the bed where Dean lay.

“Cas,” he cleared his throat, “Just what was that about?”

“He needed to be told the truth,” Castiel stated, “And he needed it to be shoved down his throat.” With that, the angel swallowed hard almost avoiding Sam’s gaze as if in some kind of shame.

Sam said nothing, turning away from where Dean lay in which to address the rest of the group. “These hex bags should keep us safe,” he declared, holding them up.

“For now,” Valac retorted.

Sam just shook his head at him silently for a moment before continuing, “I guess we should get some rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow.

Lillian immediately made for the small sofa which was in the far corner of the room, plopping down and spreading out. Castiel stepped forwardly almost shyly, “Sam, you know I do not sleep.”

Sam sighed, “Then just sit quietly somewhere I guess.”

The angel nodded, pulling a chair out from the table before taking a seat like a stone statue. Sam, meanwhile, walked over to Valac’s location tapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey uh, Valac,” he said.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” the demon teased turning to face Sam.

“Can I talk to you for a quick second?” Sam asked, eyeing Castiel suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, “Alone?”

Valac also glanced over at Castiel for the briefest of seconds before directing his full attention back to the hunter before him. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, hoisting himself off the bed in which to make for the motel doorway. Sam held the door for him, before slipping out into the empty hallway himself. “Okay, what’s up?”

Sam let out a deep sigh, keeping his gaze intently fixated on the carpet for some reason. Valac glanced down there too, but he didn’t really see anything of interest. “So you know I killed Alastair before, right?” Sam began, his voice just a little to shaky for his liking.

“Um, yeah,” Valac replied, not entirely sure where Sam was going with this.

“And you know how I did it?” Sam continued, finally looking upward to face the demon at last.

Valac frowned somewhat, feeling suddenly awkward. Still, he responded, “Yeah. What’s your point?”

“He’s more powerful now,” Sam said, his voice hushed, “I honestly don’t think we’ll be able to stop him.”

“Unless?” Valac inquired, feeling that there was more to Sam’s thought process than was actually being shared.

“Unless I use my abilities again,” Sam clarified sheepishly.

Valac said nothing for a moment, licking his lips delicately as he debated his next words silently to himself. He swallowed hard, “You know how much demon blood that’s gonna take, don’t you? Not to mention you’re gonna, well, need to practice and stuff.”

“I know,” Sam sighed, “And it’s not like I can just hunt down a demon and use’em for a juice box or anything.”

Valac shifted uncomfortably at Sam’s words, digging his hands deep into the pits of his pockets. “What are you getting at here?” he asked at last.

Sam hesitated for a moment, before replying, “Valac, please, I need demon blood to do this. And I, I think I need your blood.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Come again?” Valac frowned heavily, actually taking a hesitant step away from Sam.

“I know it’s weird for me to be asking this,” Sam muttered.

“Uh yeah,” Valac agreed awkwardly.

“Believe me, I feel disgusting even saying anything,” Sam clarified, “But I think it’s something that has to be done.”

Valac sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead wearily. “Look, I don’t know what went on between you and that Ruby chick, okay?” the demon said, his voice firm and clear, “But I am not her, and I’m not gonna be your little bitch.”

Sam felt slightly taken aback. “Valac, I wasn’t—,”

“I’ll get you some drones to exorcise,” Valac interrupted him swiftly, “But get your blood elsewhere.”

“Where am I gonna go?” Sam snorted somewhat.

“That’s not my problem,” Valac retorted rather bitterly.

The demon turned as if to head back to the motel room when Sam gripped his arm firmly pulling him back. “Please Valac,” Sam urged, “I have to do this.”

“And what makes you so sure it’ll work, huh?” Valac spat, his voice enraged, “How do you know dear old Lucifer won’t just resurrect Alastair again? How do you know Alastair won’t kick your ass instead?”

“Keep your voice down,” Sam hissed.

Valac jerked away from the hunter, outstretching his arms and looking up towards the ceiling. “What for?” he shouted, if only just to piss Sam off further, “It’s not like anyone can hear me! It’s not like anyone even knows who I am!”

“Is that so, Valac?” a voice echoed from just down the hall.

Valac instantly dropped his arms, drawing his guns from their holsters and aiming them forward at the shadowy figure slowly creeping amidst the shaded corridor. The pistols were flung from Valac’s hands with apparent telekinesis, in which the demon swiftly drew a dagger from its place nestled behind his back. He concealed it in the palm of his hand, his stance aggressive as if ready to charge at any given moment.

Sam squinted his eyes, seemingly recognizing the black suit which crept towards their position. “Crowley?” the young Winchester muttered.

“The one and only,” the British voice snickered, a prideful grin upon the demon’s face.

“You know him?” Valac asked, casting a glance over his shoulder. Sam nodded swiftly, in which Valac slid his dagger back into said original confinements.

“And you must be Valac,” Crowley smiled, patting the younger demon lightly on the shoulder, “Don’t believe we’ve met. The name’s Crowley.”

“I realize,” Valac mumbled, eyeing his brethren suspiciously.

“What are you doing here?” Sam urged, taking a few steps closer to where the two demons stood.

Crowley leaned against the wall casually, letting out a sigh as though relaxed in the comfort of his own home. “Heard you’re in need of, how should I say, certain necessities?” he mused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam denied swiftly, exchanging a quick and knowing glance with Valac who stood beside him.

“Of course you do,” Crowley retorted rather cheerfully, “You and the youngling here were only discussing it just moments ago. Tell me Sam, where you gonna get the juice?”

“That’s none of your business,” Sam snapped feeling rather uncomfortable in the direction in which this conversation was heading.

“Oh touchy, touchy,” Crowley put his hands up defensively, “But uh, just thought you should know I’m a jack of all trades.”

Valac cocked his head in questioning. He asked, “You know where we can find some demons to bleed?”

“Well, when you put it that way sounds like I’m running some kind of trafficking slander. But yes, there’s some fresh merchandise just showed up yesterday if I remember correctly,” Crowley cleared his throat.

“Do you know where?” Sam inquired.

“Ah easy now, you know I don’t just give goodies away without expecting something in return,” the demon chimed.

Sam frowned somewhat, exchanging a quick and almost fearful glance with Valac. “What d’you want?”

“Get Dean back in action,” Crowley declared, “We can’t have him giving up when the world’s getting ready to burn. You two have a job to do. Well, after this one that is.”

Sam snorted, “That’s it?”

“Oh believe me, I don’t think you’ll find it easy,” Crowley retorted.

“So where are these goonies?” Valac crossed his arms tightly over his chest, shifting his weight.

“Last I saw, they were down in the local pub having a drink,” Crowley replied simply, “Don’t worry, they know you’re in town and chances are they’ve come looking for you. Just walk about and trouble’s sure to find you.”

With that, the demon turned as if to make his way back down the corridor. “Wait,” Sam urged, gripping Crowley lightly by the forearm, “Why you doing all this?”

“Cause you still have Lucifer to kill,” Crowley said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the universe, “Or have you just forgotten that the devil’s roaming the earth.”

“Touché,” Sam shrugged, letting the demon go.

With that, both Valac and Sam watched Crowley disappear once more into the shadows exchanging a quick look. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Valac arched an eyebrow.

“Sleep,” Sam declared with a fatigued sigh. Valac nodded in agreement, the two of them turning back to the motel room in which to get some rest before another fitful day began.

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The following morning had been…. uneventful, to say the very least. Dean had awoken earlier than anyone else to much surprise, starting in drinking right away. By the time ten o’clock rolled around, the hunter was well over drunk and was now entirely intoxicated. Of course Castiel really didn’t seem to be helping matters, just sitting there like a statue as Sam wrestled with his brother to retrieve the liquor bottle from Dean’s hands. Lillian, in the meantime, was loading up ammunition with the help of Valac. That’s not to say that the two were getting along, by no means, but they were working in a peaceful silence.

“Cas,” Sam huffed in exasperation, “Why don’t you do something?”

“I am doing something,” Castiel retorted.

“And that would be?” Sam shrugged, his face falling instantly.

“I’m,” Castiel replied hesitantly, tilting his head awkwardly to the side, “Observing.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Come with me.” Not even bothering to wait for Castiel’s response, the young hunter grasped the angel firmly by the trench coat and led him out of the main room into a more private corner. “Cas, this isn’t funny,” he murmured, his voice dead serious, “You need to do something with Dean. Make him get up.”

“Sam, you know I cannot,” Castiel shook his head.

“And why not?” Sam urged, about ready to strangle the angel who stood before him.

“Because,” Cas said as though it were clear as day, “He’s Dean Winchester. You know as well as I do there’s nothing he won’t do if he doesn’t want to.”

Sam’s expression softened, realizing that Castiel did indeed have a very good point behind his words. Dean was stubborn as anything, twas his way or the highway. The hunter released Castiel’s trench coat from his hands, taking a step just slightly backwards. “You’re right,” Sam sighed, “I’m sorry for snapping at you Cas. I’m just tired is all.” Sam ran his hands over his face and up through his hair, breathing deeply.

“It’s alright Sam. Perhaps you require some fresh air?” Castiel reassured him.

“Maybe,” Sam stroked his chin thoughtfully, a plot quickly formulating in his mind. If he and Valac left now, they could find the demons lurking around town and, well…. practice. “I think I’ll take a walk,” he then declared, “Valac, you wanna come?”

Valac didn’t even bother to look up from his work, his gaze intently focused on a sniper round he held in his fingertips. “No, not really,” he shrugged.

“Are you sure? Maybe we could pick up some more ammo,” Sam coughed rather obnoxiously.

Valac’s eyes lit up instantly – he’d almost forgotten about their little visit from Crowley the night before. “Oh, ammunition. Right,” he replied awkwardly, slowly arising from the table.

“Be sure to get some more salt while you’re out,” Lillian called as the two made for the doorway.

“Will do,” Sam nodded before closing the door behind him. He waited until they’d reached the elevator and were safely inside before speaking to Valac again. “So where do you think these demons are anyway?” he asked.

“Beats me,” Valac scratched the back of his head, “Crowley did say that they’d be sure to find us. Guess that means they’re looking.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam agreed.

Valac cleared his throat, “Just one question: what are you planning to do with these bitches once you’ve caught’em? You know you just can’t bleed someone in public right, demon or no demon?”

“No duh,” Sam scoffed, beginning to feel a little uncomfortable about the task that lay ahead of them, “Guess we’ll find a warehouse or something. Lure them there maybe.”

“Not a bad plan,” Valac nodded, stepping out of the elevator at the dinging cue.

Sam followed the demon from the elevator to the lobby, and then out the front entrance. From there, they made a left heading for the central shopping district of the town. There was sure to be a lot of people there, and so the chance of them running into these other demons was higher than a more remote location. The only trouble was, there probably weren’t so many warehouses in that general area.

As they continued to make their way down the sidewalk, little did they know a dark pair of eyes watched them. From the sanctuary of a nearby alleyway located beside the motel, a devilish grin spread over this stalker’s lips as they slowly crept out from the confined space. Whipping out a small cellular device from their pocket, they flipped open the lid and murmured quietly, “Got’em. They’re headed your way.”

Sam let out a soft sigh as they got into the more congested of areas. Sure, he considered himself to be a people person, but all the noise – it was a bit tiresome, especially after this morning. The young hunter rolled his eyes as Valac checked out two rather sleazy looking women who passed them by. Valac grinned deviously, stopping Sam rather abruptly to point in a store window. On display, there was a lacy green colored dress. It reminded Sam of something you’d see in a cheesy horror movie where dolls come to life. “Aw come on Sam, you’ve always known green was your color,” the demon teased.

“I think I’ll pass,” Sam chuckled, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he continued to stride through town.

“Speaking of passing,” Valac cleared his throat, lowering his voice, “Check out who just passed us across the street.”

Sam sighed lightly, “Look Valac, I’m really not interested—,”

Valac ignored Sam’s objection, turning the hunter’s head to face a woman who was striding down the opposite side of the sidewalk. “It’s Lauren,” he declared simply.

“Where the Hell’s she going?” Sam exclaimed in awe.

“Your guess is really as good as mine,” Valac huffed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“Hello boys,” a voice suddenly rang out from behind them, distracting them from tracing Lauren’s steps. Both Valac and Sam turned to face a man bearing the traditional demonic eyes. He looked as though he were in his mid-forties, balding, and twirling a pair of sunglasses in one hand. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Who’s we?” Sam inquired.

“Oh, just me and my groupies,” the demon smiled sarcastically as two possessed ladies joined him in standing before the pair.

Sam and Valac exchanged a nervous look, this certainly hadn’t been what they were expecting. Quickly bolting across the street Valac followed Sam’s lead, ignoring the oncoming traffic which was liable to hit him at any time. The group of demons, of course, chased after them, no one particularly caring about the suspicious looks that were being thrown at them from right and left. Sam made a sharp turn down an alley, Valac on his heels as they continued this chase. They had to find somewhere out of the way in which to trap the demons, otherwise their whole plot would be entirely useless. Noticing a rusty door on his right, Sam decided to bash it open with his foot which led him into the upper storage floor of what appeared to be some kind of a vintage antique shop. Both he and Valac took cover behind an old metal bed that looked like something out of a psychiatric ward – again Sam’s mind drifted to a horror movie, no surprise there….

Valac gasped for breath, peering over the bed’s side in which to gather a better glance at the doorway where they’d just entered. The trio of demons stepped cautiously inside, overlooking the scattered objects littering the room. Sam and Valac exchanged a glance, Sam silently signaling with his hands that they should split up. Staying crouched down, Valac quickly took refuge behind a large armor dresser. Sam, meanwhile, kept to the shadows as he snaked along the wall to a corner where some old dresses hung from the lip of a chandelier. The tiny glass beads decorating this ornate lamp jiggled somewhat as Sam did his best to steady the fabric of the musty clothes in which to conceal himself.

At this point, the hunter and Valac were nearly at opposite ends of the room still able to see each other clearly though. The male demon who’d they met earlier came closer to Sam’s location, in which the hunter double-checked with his partner in crime before reaching out in which to grab the demon. Sam cupped a hand over his mouth to keep him shushed as he slammed the butt of his handgun against his neck in which to knock him out. The demon fell to the ground, Sam dragging him backwards before situating him in the corner behind the dresses.

Valac had also moved from his current position, slowly trailing behind one of the lady demons. This, strangely enough, reminded him of the arcade game PacMan being like the little yellow creature hunting the ghosts – and trying not to be hunted all at the same time. Having the woman just within his grasp, she unexpectedly turned quickly clasping her fingers tightly around his throat. Losing his grip on his weapon, Valac accidentally dropped his own gun to the floor with a loud thud. The woman demon snickered as she watched him kick and flail his legs in desperation for breath. And suddenly, her eyes lit up with a deep golden color a hand snaking its way around the front of her face as Sam appeared just behind her. He bore Ruby’s knife in hand, digging the blade deep into the demon’s spine, twisting and curving before finally yanking it from her flesh.

“Thanks,” Valac coughed, massaging his neck in small circular motions. Sam nodded in reply, letting out a heaving sigh as he eyed the woman’s corpse who lay on the floor just below them. Valac’s eyes widened, the demon taking an aggressive step forward as he hollered, “Duck!”

Sam did as he was told, crouching down quickly as Valac bolted forward and slammed the other woman demon into the nearby wall. He somehow managed to grab hold of Ruby’s knife and had it pinned just below her carotid artery. Sam watched in fascination for the briefest of moments as the blade bobbed up and down with her racing pulse. “Wait,” the hunter urged, Valac throwing him a look from over his shoulder, “I need her.”

Valac stepped partially away from the demon as Sam came forth, keeping the blade pressed firmly in place in which to secure her. She scoffed, eyeing the hunter from head to toe, “Oh I’ve heard that before. Believe me son, there’s nothing you can’t do that this bitch hasn’t experienced before.”

Sam kept his eyes directed towards the floor, an almost sadistic grin spreading over his lips. “Believe me, I think there is,” he muttered, his voice dark and masked with some kind of furious hatred.

The demon woman shuddered in fear as Sam closed the space between them, digging his teeth into the soft skin covering the nape of her neck. She screamed out as the sharp pain of his teeth punctured each nerve of his skin, rich blood flowing freely from the wound. She tried to push him away, but to no avail, this body simply wasn’t strong enough. Sam grasped her mouth firmly with his hand to keep her quiet, pressing her even harder against the wall than before. All she could do was fist the fabric of his shirt as she felt the life being drained from her, ounce by bloody ounce.

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Dean lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling which somehow seemed to swirl and blend before his very eyes. The way he figured it, it could be one of three things:

1\. Something deep inside had finally cracked and he really, truly, was going insane.  
2\. Some kind of wriggling creature was possessing what appeared to be a simple beige ceiling.  
3\. Or, more probable, the hunter had consumed way more alcohol than was good for him.

Dean decided to go with the second approach – it just made things more fun. Letting out a soft laugh, he lifted his hands in which to rub over his eyes wearily. “What’s so funny?” Lillian asked from the far side of the room. She was still busy cleaning away at the guns spread out across the table.

“The ceiling,” Dean slurred, “It’s all swirly.”

Lillian narrowed her vision in which to gaze upon the rather boring display of taupe above her. “Uh no it’s not,” she retorted with a lighthearted chuckle.

“Well how would you know?” Dean scoffed, coming off more obnoxious than he had originally intended.

“Trust me hun, it’ll all be clear when you sober up,” Lillian reassured him, returning the scope to the top of a hunting rifle.

“Shh,” Dean hissed suddenly, shooting upward from the bed, “Do you hear that?”

“What? I don’t hear anything,” Lillian retorted, tilting her head in which to try and absorb whatever bizarre noise it was Dean heard…. or thought he heard.

“Listen,” Dean interrupted her swiftly, his face almost completely serious now.

Lillian listened on for a moment longer before letting out a long drawn sigh. “Dean, I’m telling you I don’t hear—,” before she even had a chance to finish her sentence, Lillian was thrown from her chair against the wall before crashing onto the floor below.

Almost as if on cue, Lauren kicked the door open strutting forward. “Spoke too soon,” she smiled deviously, glancing at Lillian’s unconscious body almost in pride, “Hello Dean.” Suddenly Castiel appeared from the other room, his blade and only weapon in his hand as he was ready to plunge it through the young woman before him. Pressing a hand firmly to his sternum, Lauren muttered, “Take a seat.” With that, the angel went tumbling backwards onto the floor, his blade rolling out of his hand and landing in the doorway of the motel room.

A dark pair of dress shoes quickly proclaimed dominance over Castiel’s weapon, such feet belonging to none other than Alastair. He snickered sickly at the angel, picking the blade up slowly in which to examine it. “So this is what they give you to defend yourself?” he questioned, his tone thick with sarcasm, “A toothpick?"

Castiel’s upper lip quivered with purest of demise he felt towards the almighty demon. Gritting his teeth together as he spoke, the angel retorted, “It can work miracles. You should allow me to show you.”

Alastair’s grin faltered, looking discontent as he carelessly tossed the blade aside. “I don’t think so, angel,” he sneered, now turning his attention to the hunter who still lay trembling atop the bed, “Hello there, Dean.”

“Ah, go to Hell,” Dean grumbled, cowering towards the furthest edge of the mattress that he possibly could before actually falling off.

Alastair chuckled to himself, taking a few steps forward and simply relishing in the way Dean was so like a small child – always taking to hiding from his fears rather than face them. “Careful what you wish for Dean,” Alastair scolded in mockery, “I might just drag you there with me.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Castiel spoke suddenly from his place still on the floor across the room. Lauren turned and glared at the angel, inflicting pain upon him simply with her stare.

Alastair shrugged, “Perhaps not. That doesn’t mean I don’t have something quite spectacular in store for Deano though.” The way the demon spoke, as though Dean weren’t even in the room with them, well it sort of offended Dean to be quite honest.

Speaking up with a sudden burst of anger, Dean nearly growled, “Fine, then what are you waiting for huh? Why waste your time on Cas here?”

“Patience is a virtue Dean,” Alastair replied swiftly, “Besides, something just as equally wonderful awaits your precious angel.”

Dean’s eyes burned with even further fury, looking as though he were about to attack Alastair right there and then, when suddenly a fist came trudging in his direction. The hunter wasn’t even able to react before Lauren’s blow knocked him back flat onto the mattress and the world was black.

Alastair, meanwhile, leisurely strode over towards Castiel stopping to simply tower over the angel. “So,” he muttered quietly, “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

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After Sam had drunken enough demon blood which he was sure would be sufficient enough to exorcise the remaining demon, he let out a deep sigh feeling the new and invigorating poison course through his veins. Valac, meanwhile, had turned to collect the remaining demon blood from the woman’s body. He said it could be useful just in case Sam needed more.

The hunter secured the last binding of rope around the male demon’s wrist, stepping back to admire his handy work. The demon was perfectly secured within a devil’s trap as well as tied tightly to the thin wooden chair. Valac glanced up at Sam from his position on the floor, looking just past him onto the wall behind. There was a fairly large poster of The Beatles Abbey Road album cover plastered across the otherwise dull and faded wallpaper. Valac pondered for a moment how John Lennon, the holy man dressed gracefully in white, might react to the sins being committed in this very room.

“Give peace a chance?” the demon shrugged, nodding his head in the direction of the poster.

Sam turned to look upon picture, glancing back at Valac over his shoulder glaring daggers at him. “Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered sternly.

Valac sighed at his failed attempt to lighten the situation, arising from his spot on the floor to stand beside Sam. Unnervingly silent, Sam stepped forth in which to smack the male demon and awake him from his current slumber. “Hey, douche bag!” Valac called, catching the demon’s attention. His eyes were glazed, not completely focused as though he were in some distant land. His mouth hung open slightly, in which a small trail of spit clung dangerously to the inside of his lip threatening to spill over the edge at any moment.

It took not but a second for the demon to snap out of it, blinking vigorously before finally settling his gaze upon Sam. “Sam,” he muttered, an almost content grin spreading over his lips before directing his eyes towards Valac, “And Valac, I gotta say, I didn’t think you’d be the one to tail along with – hunters.” The way the demon pronounced the word, with distain and hatred thick to his tone, it was all Sam could do to stop himself from hauling off and bashing said demon’s face in.

“Well, guess I’m just full of surprises then aren’t I?” Valac challenged, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“Perhaps,” the demon cleared his throat, hocking a loogie to the side, “But I never thought you’d go so far as to betray your own race.”

This comment made Valac falter, even for the briefest of moments. He regained his composure quickly though, taking a threatening step towards his bound brethren. “When it comes to Alastair, well, let’s just say I’m willing to bend the rules a bit,” Valac muttered bitterly.

The demon frowned, puckering his lips in false sympathy. “What, did baby get a little razor nick?” he taunted, laughing as Valac gritted his teeth together in agitation.

“I’ll give you a razor nick,” Valac nearly growled under his breath, only taking a step back as Sam had placed a firm hand upon his shoulder.

“Tell me,” Sam suddenly cleared his throat as he came closer to the tied demon before him, “How does it feel to be Alastair’s bitch?”

The demon lunged forward, looking as though he would rip Sam to pieces had he not been tied. “I ain’t no body’s bitch. You got that, freak show boy?” the demon spat.

“Oh, you’re about to be someone’s bitch all right,” Sam smiled sickly, raising a hand in the demon’s general direction, pressing his fingertips roughly against the air as though it were glass keeping him from something he so desired, “Mine.”

The demons eyes widened as the inky black overtook them, his mouth dropping open as painful chokes and gags emulated from him. Coughing and spewing, a trail of black smoke began to trail from his lips. Sam, who had his eyes closed, furrowed his brow somewhat as he felt the demon holding back in attempts to be saved from the scorching heat of the pit. “W- wait,” the demon hacked, “Wait!”

Sam actually gave into the demon’s pathetic request, lowering his hand if only for a moment. The hunter smiled sickly, crouching down close to the demon’s face, this time confident that he would get exactly what he was looking for. “What’s Alastair want with my brother?” Sam ordered, his tone grim.

“I don’t know,” the demon panted, shaking his head, “He didn’t say.”

“I don’t believe you,” Sam retorted, constricting his hand fiercely. Valac, who stood behind him, shifted uncomfortably as he saw the smoke of his fellow demon once again threatening to leave its human inhabitance.

“I don’t!” the demon urged, spatting desperately.

Sam loosened his grip somewhat, still keeping his hand clenched just so that it would make the demonic smoke utterly uncomfortable deep inside the possessed body. “Then what’s he want with you?” Sam continued his interrogation.

At this the demon laughed, outright laughed, despite the current circumstances. “See, that’s the kicker,” the demon snickered, “I’m just a distraction.”

“A distraction for what?” Sam asked, trying his best to keep his tone calm despite the panic that was beginning to build in the pit of his stomach.

“From whatever Alastair’s planning to do with your brother,” the demon almost whispered, simply adding to the suspense which was growing deep within Sam, “As a matter of fact, he should be with him as we speak.”

At this, Sam’s heart stopped cold. How could he be so stupid? How could he go, leaving Dean unprotected? Sure he had Cas and Lillian, but Lillian was only human and Cas was nowhere as strong as he used to be. Hearing the demon’s sadistic laughter, Sam didn’t even bother fully exorcising the son of a bitch. Instead, he grasped the handle of Ruby’s knife firmly within his hand before plunging it into the demon’s neck. The chuckling stopped abruptly as his eyes lit up, and then they were darkened forever.

“Uh, mind telling me just what was the point of that?” Valac snapped, surprised that Sam had acted so rashly.

“Dean,” Sam muttered mindlessly, already making for the door, “We gotta get to Dean.”


	11. Chapter 11

Sam stormed down the hall of the hotel, shouting Dean’s names at different intervals. Valac, who was trailing steadily behind him, thought it was the least Sam could do to make their presence less obvious. If they were going to be doing any kind of rescuing, announcing their arrival before they even got there would be utterly pointless. Coming to their room at last, Sam watched horrified as the door had already been busted open. Darting through the splintered archway, Sam found himself standing in an empty hotel room. “Dean?” he questioned, his heart racing in anticipation, “Dean!”

The hunter scrambled from the main room into the bathroom, searching every nook and cranny in hopes of finding his brother hiding out somewhere. To no avail. “Sam, it’s too late,” Valac murmured sympathetically, “They’ve gone.”

Sam paused for a moment, his shoulders heaving as he breathed deeply. Turning back to face Valac, the hunter’s expression was enraged as he gripped the demon by the shoulders and slammed him into a wall. “Where? Where could they have gone?” Sam hollered desperately.

“I don’t know!” Valac retorted, shoving Sam away from him hurriedly, “Just calm down okay?”

“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down Valac? Dean is gone!” Sam shouted, running hand through his hair.

Suddenly, there came a slight moan which caught both of their attention. Whipping out his guns instantly, Valac edged toward the table and what appeared to be the remains of a chair piled in the corner. His expression softened almost instantly as he moved a piece of wood aside to reveal Lillian’s face. “Sam, it’s Lillian,” he murmured breathlessly.

Quickly tucking his guns away, both he and Sam worked to move the rubbish away from Lillian before attempting to bring her back to consciousness. “Lillian, Lillian, can you hear me?” Sam asked, leaning in close to her as he lightly tapped a hand against her cheek.

Lillian’s eyes rolled beneath her eyelids before finally coming open ever slowly. There was a gash across her forehead which bore a few splinters, but otherwise it didn’t look like too much damage had been sustained. “Sam,” she said lightly, her voice rather hoarse.

“Hey,” Sam encouraged, just cause he really didn’t know what else to say. Slipping a hand behind her neck, Sam helped to cradle head as he lifted her up.

Lillian’s eyes widened, choking on her own words as she tried to recollect the attack from before. “A- Alastair,” she coughed before Sam helped to ease her back down into his arms. The last thing they needed was for Lillian to become hysteric – especially if she was the only person who had witnessed everything and was still here to tell the tale.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Sam soothed, “Alastair’s gone.”

Sam’s words seemed to do little in terms of comfort to her, as Lillian still spoke frantically, “But Dean and Cas—”

“They’re gone,” Valac interrupted her swiftly, “But we need your help to figure out what happened.”

Lillian took a few moments to breathe deeply before trying to continue on. “Dean was still drunk,” she began, “He kept giggling about the ceiling.” Valac and Sam exchanged a bizarre but said nothing allowing her to explain. “But then, then he said he heard something.”

“Something like what?” Sam inquired.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t hear anything,” Lillian replied solemnly.

Sam nodded, continuing with his questioning, “What happened then?”

“I was about to tell him that I didn’t hear anything, when I was thrown from my chair,” Lillian frowned, lifting a hand to rub the back of her head, “The last thing I remember seeing was Lauren busting through the door before I was out.” Letting out a soft sigh, Sam allowed his head to dip low in dismay. “I’m sorry,” Lillian apologized instantly.

“For what?” Sam looked up.

“I can’t remember more,” she said, her brow knitted in guilt.

“Oh no,” Sam shook his head, desperately wanting her not to feel bad, “Even that’s helpful.” He felt slightly shameful for lying, cause really that information meant little, but a hesitant smile spread over Lillian’s lips so obviously she believed him.

“Whew, look at the bloody mess you’ve made,” a familiar voice whistled as Crowley crept through the broken doorway.

Valac was standing in an aggressive stance, his brow furrowed in concentration as Crowley continued to step forward. Despite Sam’s claim of knowing the demon, Valac didn’t trust him – it just seemed that Crowley popped up when the situation was most convenient.

“Crowley, what are you doing here?” Sam called over his shoulder.

“I told you trouble was bound to find you,” the demon smiled smugly in response, “You’re not a very trusting thing are you?” He nodded in Valac’s general direction. At this, Valac simply glared further causing Crowley to become uncomfortable in his gaze.

“Tell me you didn’t know this was gonna happen,” Sam insisted through gritted teeth.

“Oh me? No, I hadn’t the slightest clue what our pal Alastair was planning, I assure you,” Crowley replied defensively, “But I think I might be able to help you.”

“How?” Valac frowned.

“Well, first things first,” Crowley cleared his throat, “We should get her to a hospital.”

“I’m fine,” Lillian grumbled. She certainly wasn’t accustomed to demons helping hunters much less one telling her where she should or shouldn’t go.

“You have a concussion, and you need proper medical treatment,” Crowley retorted, “We can’t have you turning useless in a fight, now can we?”

Lillian just let out a deep sigh – there was no point in protesting the demon’s logic. “Fine,” she muttered through clenched teeth, taking Sam’s gestured hand in which to stand from the floor.

“Shall we go then?” Crowley asked pleasantly, outstretching a hand in the direction of the doorway.

“After you,” Lillian insisted, her tone mocking his politeness. The demon smiled, shaking his head as he stepped into the corridor. Valac followed behind him, Sam ready to go as well. “Sam, wait,” Lillian murmured, grasping the hunter’s forearm tightly.

“What’s up?” Sam asked, furrowing his brow slightly.

“How many demons are you gonna trust before you take the hint?” she hissed.

Sam looked slightly taken aback at her remark, tossing a glance over his shoulder in which to make sure the others weren’t listening. Licking his lips, the hunter argued, “Crowley, he doesn’t want the apocalypse. He’s on our side.”

“They’re demons,” Lillian urged, her eyes widening trying to make him understand, “They can never be on our side, not really. Not as much as you might want them to be.” On that note, Lillian walked carefully ahead leaving Sam to simply simmer on her words.

Sam just stood there for a moment, looking aimlessly at the floor below. A part of his heart wrenched at the fact that Lillian was indeed right. He and Dean had spent their entire lives, practically, hunting down demons knowing them only as their enemies. So why was it now that Sam seemed to be trusting them time and time again? Trusting them even more than angels in fact! He had placed blind faith in Ruby, out of desperation perhaps, hoping that at the end of the road something good would come out of it. That he could have a chance of rescuing Dean, having things go back to the way they used to be. But all that had gone down the drain much faster than he would’ve anticipated. Now though, with Valac and Crowley lending a helping hand, Sam felt much different. It was like he could be sure their intentions were pure.

Letting out a deep sigh he traipsed down the hallway with the rest of the group, his thoughts in a whirl. If he really thought about it, which he didn’t like to over calculate, a lot of this did seem just a little coincidental. Still, all he could do for the now was rely on the resources he had available. Without them, he literally had no one else to turn to.

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Castiel awoke to a dimly lit room, which smelled musty and damp. From what could be seen, the walls were made of a gray concrete which was crumbling at certain spaces along the cracks. The floor was also a smooth grey, transformed into dark blotches wherever water seemed to settle. Above him there hung a lengthy fluorescent bulb which had a tendency to flicker – results from the demons, no doubt.

The angel winced in pain as he tried to move his wrists from the position in which they were strung. That’s when he lifted his eyes to see the iron cuffs enclosing his wrists, connected by link after rusty iron link of chain. As Castiel tried to twist his arm around once more, he noticed a translucent, green tinted liquid running down his exposed skin. It would appear that there was a great deal of said liquid congested beneath the cuff, and it burned like acid to the touch. Castiel clenched his eyes tightly as the fluid seemed to ache more than ever as it ran over the new skin. He let out a deep sigh as his head now began to throb from the pain he was biting down upon. Panting wildly, Castiel’s senses suddenly became alert as he realized another presence had entered the room.

A soft laugh echoed from the shadowed corridor not but a minute later in which to confirm his suspicions. Castiel jerked his head up, ocean deep eyes glazed with a mixture of terror and anticipation. “I was hoping you’d join us soon,” Lauren’s airy voice murmured into the darkness, “I’ve become lonely waiting for someone to talk to.” With that, there came a flick sound before numerous ceiling lights were switched on revealing the remaining area of the room.

Castiel blinked vigorously, squinting his eyes in which to protect them from the sudden burst of brightness. “What is this place?” he stammered, his voice so gruff that surprised even him.

“Oh just a basement, like many others,” Lauren shrugged, pulling a chair from its place at a simple wooden desk.

Castiel’s vision was at last beginning to adjust to the light and so the angel opened his eyes further in which to gain some recognition of his surroundings. Instantly he shuddered, however, as he caught sight of a bloody corpse just off to the left. His breath hitched in his throat, darting his head in dismay. It deeply pained him to see one of his Father’s creations battered in such a manner. “Wh- what have you done to him?” the angel asked breathlessly.

“Oh, Mr. Robinson?” Lauren smiled sickly, “Let’s just say that Alastair got bored, and it’s apparent that a pharmacist isn’t exactly a worthy opponent.”

“But why?” Castiel urged, feeling a sudden surge of fear boil deep within him. What if this was his place of ending? Some lowly basement? No, he’d come much further than to be slaughtered here. Especially by the scum Alastair.

“He so nearly had him,” Lauren replied, leaning forward on her chair, “And then, well, you sorta just obliterated us. Alastair got pretty pissed after that, needed to blow off some steam.” Castiel said nothing after that, just feeling totally and completely ridden with guilt at the fact that he caused a man’s death. And not just any man, a completely innocent, unsuspecting one. Suddenly the angel found himself wondering if he’d had any family… Lauren cleared her throat, bringing Castiel back to reality, “But now we have him. I mean we finally caught him! Dean Winchester, a slippery bastard if I do say so myself.”

“What does Alastair want with him?” Castiel inquired, tilting his head upward from the position he’d been letting it hang in.

Lauren shrugged, “Hell if I should know.”

“You’re not expecting to believe that Alastair has dragged you into this without any explanation to his plot,” Castiel retorted, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible in which to hide the growing frustration.

Arching an eyebrow, Lauren sighed impatiently as a reaction to the angel’s persistent curiosity. “If you must know, Alastair’s told me little. I know he wants Dean back, wants to be, how should I say, partners in crime if you will. You though – I can only imagine what he wants to do with you,” she confessed, eyeing the angel almost seductively from head to toe.

Castiel felt suddenly uncomfortable in her gaze, breaking their stare in which to focus upon something else. His eyes caught sight of a tall rack that appeared to have some kind of electrical flow hooked up to it. On the ground beside it there was a tin bucket filled with dark accented water. A bloody rag hung over the edge of said bucket. Castiel swallowed hard, that strange fear bubbling back up in his stomach once more – it was now apparent that Alastair had made this his chosen torture destination for some time now. He could only imagine how many the demon had brought to death. “You’re expecting something,” Castiel announced suddenly, still feeling Lauren’s eyes burning upon him.

“Yes,” Lauren murmured quietly, arising swiftly from her seat, “I was expecting you to be more fun.” She was now mere inches from Castiel, her breath steamy upon the skin of his cheek. Castiel could feel his pulse beginning to pick up as he was completely unsure of her intentions. Out of his peripheral vision, the angel unexpectedly caught sight of a syringe and jerked his head to the side to face Lauren fully. Lauren clenched the needle tightly in her grasp before plunging into one of the thick veins which stood out on the angel’s neck. Castiel winced before feeling some kind of numb illusion spread over his whole body. A thick, chunky liquid entered into his bloodstream, and before the angel could even comprehend what was going on his eyelids felt heavy. Without much resistance he’d soon fallen back into a deep, dark slumber.

Lauren half-smiled to herself, watching as Castiel’s head drooped down in unconsciousness. Tucking the syringe back into her pocket, she turned swiftly before nearly tossing the chair across the room before heading towards the stairwell. On her way out, she pulled the light switch down in which conceal the room in darkness yet again. Her shoes made loud clambering noises as she climbed the stairs, finally reaching the main floor of the small shack they had taken up a temporary living in. She had to admit, it wasn’t a bad place necessarily. Out of the way, yes, but not a total loss. There was still electricity and running water which was good enough for her.

Pulling one of thin curtains aside, Lauren caught a glimpse out of the window. A deep indigo and violet had settled over the horizon as dusk was creeping across the land. She sighed wistfully as a cool breeze fluttered in, flickering her hair around even for the briefest of moments. It’s like she could vaguely feel her humanity creeping up on her again…

“Keeping watch?” Alastair’s voice rang out, making Lauren shudder ever slightly as she was ripped from her thoughts.

“Something like that,” she replied turning away from the window to face him. He was wiping the remnants of dried blood from his hands with a damp cloth. Lauren thought it best not to comment. Instead, she moved onto a more interesting topic, “Is he awake?”

“Now he is,” Alastair smiled smugly. Almost as if on cue, Dean’s voice could be heard as he screamed in the dark of the next room. “What about the angel?”

“He was,” Lauren yawned somewhat, “He’s a pretty boring fellow. I was hoping for a bit more entertainment.”

“Oh trust me dearest, I’m sure angels can be very entertaining,” Alastair assured her, “Especially when having the feathers plucked from their delicate little wings.”

“Their wings?” Lauren echoed, her voice rather hushed.

“Oh yes. They’re there, just hidden away like a well-kept secret. All it takes is the right twists and turns to bring them out,” he clarified, tossing her his now bloodied rag.

Lauren disposed of it quickly, setting it on the wooden table beside her. She flinched once more as she heard Dean calling out, this time the name of his brother. Alastair, on the other hand, was simply writhing in it seemingly loving the way Dean’s voice was strained with terror. “If I may ask,” she hesitated, seeing Alastair’s facial expression falter somewhat, “What exactly are you planning to do with the Winchester?” She avoided using Dean’s first name, feeling a small pang of guilt for keeping him locked away so.

“All in good time,” Alastair replied vaguely, “But trust me, when the time comes, you will have a larger role to play than you think.” At this, Alastair overlooked her from head to toe which of course only made Lauren blush. She’d never really gained his full attention like this, twas always Dean, Dean, Dean – now though, she held his eyes undividedly and for that she felt special. Appreciated somehow.

The almighty demon took a leisurely step forward, his eyes locked on hers in some kind of twisted embrace. Though he didn’t stop when he reached anyone’s typical personal boundaries, no – they were close now, just so close. Lauren longed so deeply just inch forward, destroy any space between them and lock their lips in immense passion. She had, for what felt like ages, pondered what Alastair might taste like. Sulfur and ash, perhaps? Or maybe there was a light reek of death which had managed to seep even into the flesh of the demon’s current meatsuit. Whatever it may be, Lauren only noticed now that she was lightly trembling at the sheer force of resisting said urges.

The faintest of smiles tugged at the edges of Alastair’s lips, curling them into a light grin. He lifted both of his hands in which to cup her face, Lauren closing her eyes in the purest ecstasy of his touch. His hands slid gently down her smooth flesh, stopping over the exact spot of her carotid artery simply to feel. Alastair seemed to lose himself in the constant pumping of the blood flowing steadily beneath the skin of her neck, the rhythmic thump, thump, thump. Opening her eyes once more, Lauren gazed into the abyss of his pupils, her own quaking with the utmost turmoil. Alastair could feel her heart rate increasing beneath the touch of his fingertips, which of course only made his smile broader.

Plenty of blood to go around… Alastair thought to himself, removing his hands from her neck at last. Lauren missed him instantly, a light mewl escaping her lips in longing. This caught Alastair off guard as he continued to look at her, arching an eyebrow in suspicion. “Soon,” he declared, seeing her eyes light up in enthusiasm. Without another word, the demon turned in which to head in the direction of Dean’s confinements. Lauren let out the discontented sigh she’d been holding in as the door bolted shut, echoing against the otherwise unnervingly silent room where she now found herself alone.

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As soon as they’d secured Lillian at the hospital, Sam, Valac, and Crowley headed for a hotel on the outskirts of town. After the incident at the last room they’d stayed in, Sam thought it best to keep themselves on the low as not to have any sort of property damages filed against them. Closing the door lightly behind him, Sam walked over to the table towards the center of the room and set down the six pack that he’d been carrying. Both Valac and Crowley, who’d been sitting their previously, eyed the beer suspiciously for both quality and any evidence of holy water.

“Relax guys,” Sam chuckled somewhat, “I just bought the damn case.”

“Cheers,” Crowley smirked, tossing a nod in Sam’s general direction before sipping from his bottle. Sam and Valac mimicked the act shortly thereafter, all three sighing in contentment as the alcohol spilled down their throats and into their stomachs.

“So just how do you plan on offering any help to the situation?” Valac spoke up, his eyes locking intently with Crowley’s.

Crowley licked his lips, setting his bottle down before clasping his hands in front of him. “Well, let’s just say I know a friend, who knows a friend, who knows a friend,” the demon said simply.

“Okay,” Sam furrowed his brow somewhat, “And how are these so-called friends gonna be any help?”

“See, that’s the thing. These guys, they’re like me – we all don’t quite agree on Lucifer’s little plan to roast the planet, so we keep on the lookout for any helpful info,” Crowley explained.

“So you’ve got sources?” Valac scoffed somewhat.

“Bloody good ones at that, thank you very much,” Crowley retorted, taking yet another sip of his beer.

“Anyway,” Sam cleared his throat, tossing Valac a look which said to lay off, “What have these sources of yours heard?”

“Well, nothing of real interest,” Crowley shrugged, “Something about a pharmacist going missing up around Faulkton, I think, but otherwise nothing.”

“A pharmacist?” Sam echoed, frowning. That really didn’t have to do with much of anything that was happening with the current situation.

Crowley nodded, “Yeah, middle-aged guy, divorced, no kids. Why, you know him?”

“No, but—,” Sam mumbled, arising swiftly from his chair in which to pace the floor.

“But?” Valac urged, feeling that Sam was onto something now.

“But he wouldn’t be missed,” Sam finished at last.

Valac slowly stood from his own seat, “What do you mean?”

“Shit!” Sam exclaimed, turning back to face both demons who were eyeing him precariously, “It makes sense! Alastair’s in town, goes on a sick little carving parade, grabs some poor schmuck that no one’s gonna think twice about. Alastair’s in Faulkton, I’d bet money on it.”

“Wait, how can you be so sure?” Valac asked doubtfully.

“Don’t you see? If Alastair wanted Dean, then you can guess Dean would only put up a fight. He’s gotta break him down, he’s gotta get him to cooperate before he takes him anywhere. That’s why he wouldn’t take him very far. If Dean’s not gonna be agreeable, it’s gonna make it a whole Hell of a lot harder to move him around from place to place,” Sam continued on his charade, now walking all around the room in circles as he ran a hand through his hair.

“So what, we’re just going to barge in there and take your brother by storm?” Crowley scoffed, “We don’t even have the slightest clue where Alastair’s stashed him!”

“Which is exactly why we should get a move on,” Sam declared, already sliding on his jacket and making for the door. There was no questioning his motives.

Valac quickly charged after him, ready to follow Sam into the hallway before pausing. “Don’t forget the beer,” he called over his shoulder to Crowley.

Crowley just shook his head, collecting the remainder of the six pack before following the other two out towards the parking lot. Valac of course took the passenger’s seat, Sam driving, which left the back seat for Crowley all to his lonesome. The demon was content to stretch out amidst the car, the last three beers safely secured behind Sam’s seat on the floor.

With his foot pressed like lead to the gas pedal, the group managed to reach Faulkton in just under two hours which was perfect because it wasn’t even that late yet. Yes, it was getting close to eleven o’clock but it beat two in the morning, so Sam was happy. Pulling into a small motel, Sam checked in before stepping back out into the parking lot in which to call Lillian let her know what was up.

“So you think Alastair’s there?” Lillian asked doubtfully on the other line.

“That’s the theory,” Sam sighed, pinching the brim of his nose wearily, “So what’d the doctor say?”

“Well you can tell your friend he was wrong, there was no concussion. But they did some tests, and actually came up with something interesting,” Lillian replied, a solemn undertone to her voice.

“Well what is it?” Sam continued, sounding just a bit more needy than he had originally intended to.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter,” Lillian said rather hastily, “Do you think Lauren’s with him?”

Sam thought Lillian’s sudden change of subject a bit bothersome but decided not to question it. Instead, he proceeded to answer her question, “Uh yeah, well I would assume anyway.”

“Do me a favor? When you find that son of a bitch, give him a good ass whooping for me? That’s what he gets for even thinking about laying a hand on my daughter,” Lillian declared sternly.

Sam chuckled somewhat, “Okay, will do.”

“And Sam? One more thing,” Lillian spoke softly now.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, waiting intently for her request.

“If you can,” she began slowly, “Do your best to save Lauren. Please? Believe it or not, I really do care about her.”

“I know you do. I’ll do whatever I can,” Sam assured her before hanging up.

Moments later, Crowley joined him handing Sam a newspaper from earlier in the week. “Well, I talked to the clerk,” he said, “Turns out our dearest pharmacist went missing on Friday.” The demon pointed a finger to a small strip of text within the article.

Sam read aloud, “On Friday, July twenty-third, Lewis Robinson was reported missing by neighbor Elizabeth Stein when he failed to return home from his late work shift at Faulkton Drug. ‘He seemed paranoid throughout the day,’ co-worker Joshua Reynolds recalls, ‘Constantly looking out the window, claiming that he’d heard noises coming from the back room when nothing was there.’”

“Keep reading, it gets better,” Crowley encouraged.

“Security cameras have footage of Robinson leaving the store and entering his vehicle at approximately 10:22PM. According to the local authorities, he seemed rushed as he unlocked his car door before driving off in the direction opposite of his home,” Sam frowned somewhat as he continued to read.

“Bingo,” Crowley beamed.

“You think this guy knew Alastair was watching him?” Sam inquired.

“Not only that, but somehow he knew it probably wasn’t safe to go home neither. See, according to one of my sources,” the demon emphasized on the word, “Dearest Robinson drives a 2001 Buick Century Sedan. Guess where one just happened to be spotted?”

Sam found himself actually taking a step closer towards Crowley. “Where?” he anticipated.

“Ball Parks – not even five minutes in the direction the poor bastard was driving when he left the drug store,” Crowley replied.

“Well that’s great, we should probably go and check this place out then,” Sam insisted.

“Uh, I hate to burst your bubble there,” Valac suddenly interrupted the two, “But the last time I heard anything about going through a park at night it was from the Grandmaster Flash – not the best idea, I’m gonna tell you that right now.”

“Valac’s right,” Crowley nodded in agreement. Sam looked as though he were about to protest him when the demon cut him off quickly, “Besides, if Alastair is out there it’s only going to give him the upper hand. I swear, you humans are absolutely pathetic in the dark.”

Sam scoffed somewhat, “Geez, thanks. I guess we’ll just wait til tomorrow then.”

For a moment, all remained silent the night air closing in seemingly thick around them. Crowley let out a deep sigh, glancing at his wrist for a non-existent watch. “Well, in the meantime, I think I’m going to have a gander at the nightly entertainment. Either of you gents care to join?” he smiled enthusiastically.

“No thanks,” Valac spoke for both of them. There seemed to be a lingering reason which remained unspoken but no one mentioned anything further.

“Eh, suit yourselves,” Crowley shrugged before disappearing almost instantly.

Sam and Valac exchanged looks, Sam letting out a lighthearted chuckle as he pinched the brim of his nose. “I don’t know about you, but I think I’m gonna turn in,” he announced.

“Yeah,” Valac nodded, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, “Hey Sam?”

“What’s up?” Sam arched an eyebrow in suspicion.

Valac hesitated, fidgeting with a piece of pocket lint. “I just wanted to say thanks, for everything really. For convincing Dean to trust me and, well, patching me up and all,” the demon spoke awkwardly.

“It was nothing, really,” Sam nodded.

“No, seriously,” Valac took a step forward, desperately wanting for his words to hit home with Sam, “I can understand you having your reservations about me. I would if I were you, but I, I don’t know what it is lately, but every time I go to like regenerate and shit I just can’t. I don’t remember hardly anything about being human but I do remember healing was as slow as anything. I guess what I’m really saying is Alastair messed me up pretty bad, and it’s just really weird having a hunter, of all people, there to stitch my wounds.”

“Valac, you’re not like other demons. You don’t deserve to be plucked apart by Alastair, and you’ve needed all the help I’ve given you. There’s no way I could deny you that,” Sam replied, feeling as though he were talking to an old friend almost.

“Yeah,” Valac choked, feeling suddenly heart wrenched at Sam’s compassion, “Neither does Dean, you know. I mean, deserve to get ripped up.”

“I know,” Sam sighed in response, directing his eyes downward at the ground.

“We’ll find him Sam, I know we will,” Valac encouraged, feeling a slight pang of guilt for triggering Sam’s sudden somberness.

“Oh I have no doubt of that,” Sam sniffled somewhat, feeling like his own insides were being pulled out at the terrific thoughts that passed through his mind at Dean, “I think I’m just afraid of what he’ll be like when we do actually find him. I just really hope he’s still my brother.” At this Valac said nothing, simply because there was nothing he really could say. As a human, he’d been an only child and it’s not like demons became particularly close in Hell. At least not sibling close, friends with benefits if anything. “Anyway, like I said, I’m turning in. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Valac replied numbly. Sure, he felt bad for Sam, but he wasn’t going to console him with bullshit. That just wouldn’t be fair, especially after all of what Sam had done for him. Yet another pang of guilt struck him as he realized he hadn’t expressed the entire truth towards the hunter just now. Valac would never wish Alastair’s torment on anyone, even Dean, but after the things he’d heard about the two of them – he wasn’t entirely sure them being reunited wouldn’t be a good thing. Misery loves company and Dean and Alastair were like two peas in a pod. The way it was said they carved through souls, with such ecstasy and enthusiasm. It was enough to make Valac shudder himself.

Suddenly, he shuddered for real as a vibration from his phone caught him off guard. A text message? the demon thought to himself, What the Hell? Flipping open the small device he read the small white text which stood out against the dark background. It was from Lauren, surprisingly enough:

I miss you.

Valac’s fingers moved quickly over the tiny number//letter pad sending a swift reply of “y r u txting me?”, waiting eagerly for a response. His breath nearly hitched in his throat as he got a reply just a fast as he’d sent one.

You’re getting warmer.

Valac stared blankly at the screen before tucking the phone quickly back into his pocket. What did that even mean, they were getting warmer? The only thing he could assume was that it meant they were closer to Dean. But, if that were true, why would she being sharing this information with him now? What significance could it possibly hold? Valac figured it was probably best to tell Sam about this right away. Turning around, he trekked towards the motel once more and slipped stealthily inside the dark and silent room. He let out a small huff of annoyance as he saw the hunter was already snuggly under the covers and fast asleep. Valac decided against waking him up. Instead, he just made his way silently to the bathroom before shutting the door lightly behind him.

Sam peaked one eye open as he heard Valac disappear into the bathroom. He wasn’t asleep, not really, but he didn’t feel like being bothered with anything the demon had to say at the moment. His thoughts were still very much focused on Dean and getting his brother back to safety. It was nearly impossible for Sam to sleep with the very realistic possibility that Dean could be undergoing torture of the worst kind right now – or, an even better thought to meditate on, what if Alastair had just decided to kill Dean? Or   
Cas for that matter? Without an angel to rescue his brother… no. Sam wasn’t going to allow himself to think those thoughts, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Letting out a deep sigh of his own, he closed his eyes tightly before praying so desperately hard for sleep. After all, in his sleep it’s not like he could worry. Poor Sammy, he just wanted peace. A simple moment of peace.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean was drawn back to consciousness by a sharp pain. Like when you receive a shot at the doctor’s office for some vaccine or another—that first prick of the needle puncturing your skin. A most unnerving feeling to awake to, at least by Dean’s standards. But it was not the comfortable motel room that Dean remembered which he was greeted by upon opening his eyes. All was black—blacker than black, as a matter of fact, and it scared Dean half to death. It was dark, and it was blistering hot, and Dean was alone. To his knowledge, at least. The hunter could feel thick beads of sweat trailing down his temple, his breath hitching in his throat as he panted wildly—all of this just seemed a little too familiar.

And that’s when it struck him. That undeniable fear which coursed through Dean’s veins, breached the surface and it was much more than the hunter could stand to bear. Crumbling without recognition, Dean began to screech out into the darkness—at first just static pleas amidst the fragile silence, which gradually gave way to a more desperate and shuddering sound of his brother’s name.

“Sam!” he called, his throat quickly becoming dry and raw, “Sam! Sam!”

The hunter swallowed hard as he could now hear the echoing of what was apparently footsteps coming closer from a place beyond his comprehension. They were dim at first, quickly growing louder and ever more present with each passing second. Dean squinted his eyes as a piercing white light suddenly deceived the blackness, a silhouetted figure appearing in what was a nearby doorway. Dean watched them with the utmost intent, silently praying all the while that they were indeed the carrier of his salvation.

To no avail—within the briefest of moments, the door resumed its securely closed position and Dean, along with the defaced figure, were sheathed in darkness yet again. Dean opened his mouth as though about to speak, a chilling laugh interrupting him unexpectedly—Alastair’s laugh. At this, the hunter could feel hatred bubbling up inside him towards the demon. What kind of sick freak kept people bound up in the dark?

Just like old times... a voice rang out in the back of his mind.

Dean shook those thoughts away vigorously, determined to direct his anger towards some kind of witty comebacks which he was certain would be necessary. “So what is this?” Dean muttered aimlessly—he couldn’t even tell where Alastair was standing at this point, a well-concealed opponent. Though his voice sounded stronger than Dean felt, which was a good enough concealment of his own.

Alastair seemed to meditate on the hunter’s inquiry for a moment, each word seeping into the bleak darkness, close to oblivion. “A game,” the demon replied so eloquently, with the flick of his tongue.

“Yeah?” Dean questioned sarcastically, “Oh, don’t tell me, hide and go seek?”

“Quite the tongue you have there Dean,” Alastair snickered somewhat, “Though I must say, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Dean frowned, feeling oddly guilty that he hadn’t quite measured up to Alastair’s expectations. “Sorry to disappoint” Dean retorted dryly.

“Oh, you’ve not been a disappointment Dean,” Alastair assured him swiftly, “It’s just—it’s not quite hot enough, is it?”

Dean’s first thought was to argue that point. It was terribly freaking hot! So much, in fact, that he found himself already coated in a layer of sweat. But, alas, the hunter understood Alastair’s meaning—it wasn’t quite hot enough to be Hell. Which, for Dean at least, was a relief in itself.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle lightly to himself at that, which of course only made him begin to cough due to the lack of moisture in his windpipe. Clearing his throat though, he managed to speak at last. “A fake Hell? Gotta say, that’s pretty classy, even for you,” the hunter murmured, finding the idea interesting all on its own.

“Glad to have gained your approval,” Alastair responded sharply.

Dean remained silent for a moment, not really certain of whether to take that as a compliment or not. “So what’s this all about?” Dean asked at last.

“Oh, I needed a touch of home,” Alastair explained timidly, his voice edging slightly closer to Dean’s location. Dean thought it odd to describe Hell as a home, but then again it probably wasn’t much of a prison for Alastair either. “Though it’s not quite accurate,” the demon continued, “The smell’s not right—you do remember the smell, don’t you? So invigorating.”

“If by invigorating you mean rotting bodies and sulfur, then yeah,” Dean scoffed, feeling the need to gag rising in his throat.

“What about the blood, Dean? Surely you’ve got to remember the smell—the taste?” Alastair ignored the hunter’s apparent lack of enthusiasm, continuing on with his charade. He was so close to Dean now, his presence lingering just over the hunter’s shoulder.

Dean swallowed hard, his heart beat shuddering with deafeningly loud thuds in his eardrums. Blood had been everything downstairs—Dean had lived, breathed, and practically writhed in blood for nearly a decade during his time spent off the rack. “I remember,” the hunter choked at last, some kind of uncomfortable feeling twisting in the pit of his stomach. Though Dean honestly couldn’t tell whether it was guilt or longing at this point.

“Oh come on, Dean, Alastair chuckled cynically, “You know you can’t lie to me. Yes you remember, but you also miss it don’t you? There is such a craving in your eyes, my boy.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably at Alastair’s overbearing presence. “So what if I do?” he growled through clenched teeth, “I’ve changed though.”

Alastair was quiet for a moment, unnervingly so—if not for the fact that Dean could feel his body heat just over his shoulder, he would’ve thought the demon had disappeared without a trace. “No Dean, you will change,” Alastair corrected the hunter, his voice barely grazing a whisper.

Dean was just about to question what he could possibly mean by that, when suddenly the foreboding sound of a blade being unsheathed echoed amidst the stillness. Dean swallowed hard, fearing what he could only imagine might be in store for him next. “You can’t kill me,” he stated factually, “The angels will just bring me back again.”

“Now who said anything about killing you, my boy?” Alastair questioned almost nonchalantly, “And besides Dean, I’d be willing to bargain that those worthless feathered pin-cushions really don’t give a damn about you anymore.”

Dean could now hear Alastair running the blade over something, presumably his own hand, his reasoning still beyond the hunter’s comprehension at this point. Dean gasped as he suddenly felt something dripping onto his face—first splashing upon his cheek, then the tip of his nose, and finally his lip. Dean lightly darted his tongue out of his mouth, soaking up the strange liquid with his taste buds. Spitting it out quickly though, Dean realized almost instantly that it was indeed Alastair’s blood. Demon blood.

“You sick son of a bitch,” Dean nearly growled, jerking his head away from the direction in which the droplets had been falling.

“Now, now Dean there’s no need for language,” Alastair scolded in mockery.

“You’re dripping your freaking blood in my mouth!” Dean retorted sharply.

Alastair leant in dangerously close to the hunter’s face now, Dean catching a glimpse of the shine which glistened in the demon’s otherwise soulless eyes. “So what if I am?” Alastair asked, a sadistic grin flourishing over his lips.

Dean felt his heart jump to his throat in a split second as he quickly felt Alastair’s arm smothering his mouth. The demon’s bloodied wrist smacked against Dean’s otherwise dry lips, pouring blood unwilling down his throat. Dean thrashed about violently against the restraints keeping him pinned down, determined not to allow his inner monster to overcome him without a fight.

At last, Alastair pulled away from the hunter watching as he panted desperately from their previous struggle. And that’s when it hit him—like a thousand needles, Dean could feel the immense pain blistering his insides much worse than any pain Alastair would’ve been able to inflict against him. Dean tried his hardest to keep his screams buried, not wanting to grant Alastair the satisfaction of hearing him in agony, visibly shuddering from the amount of force it was taking. Feeling his veins bulging against his flesh though, Dean couldn’t help prevent the gasp which escaped his lips as an overwhelmed heated almost like an extremely drastic case of heartburn. Dean simply couldn’t withstand it any further as if felt like pure acid was pumping through his blood stream.

Letting out a shattering cry, Dean could feel tears of agony pricking his eyes and he swore he could feel Alastair smiling in delight—the bastard. All the hunter could do was shut his eyes tightly and pray for the best, even though he knew deep down that the worst was yet to come.

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Valac’s eyes fluttered open dazily, a swirling blur appearing in his vision. He blinked quickly in which to clear away the drowsy fog, only to see none other than Crowley’s face staring back at him. “Good morning star shine, the earth says hello,” the demon beamed cheerfully.

Valac jerked away from him sharply, distain flourishing over his face. “Get the Hell outta my face,” Valac hissed.

“That’s a lovely attitude you having doing on there,” Crowley retorted sarcastically, “But uh, you may want to pucker-up for Sammy dearest.”

“What? What are you even talking about?” Valac yawned, attempting to crack his neck.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Sam mumbled as he walked back into the room from the hallway.

“Let the games begin,” Crowley snickered under his breath.

Valac’s eyes darted back and forth between Sam and Crowley for a moment, the demon arising from his current position atop the motel bed. “Am I missing something here?” he asked curiously.

“I dunno,” Sam replied semi-smugly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, “Why don’t you tell me?”

Valac frowned opening his mouth as though to speak, when something caught his eye—the bedside table. “Where’s my phone?” he cleared his throat as he was sure he’d set it there the previous evening.

Sam pulled the cellular device from his pocket, scrolling down the inbox in which to over look Valac’s text messages. “It started vibrating this morning,” the hunter said nonchalantly, “How long has Lauren been texting you?”

“I swear I was gonna tell you about that last night,” Valac declared defensively.

“Now how do we know you’re not lying to us there, love?” Crowley asked, leaning his chin on his hands.

“Anyway,” Sam expanded on that thought, “I mean how do we know you weren’t in on Alastair’s plan all along. You’re the one who came to us in the first place!”

“Look, I am on your side!” Valac yelled, taking a step back as he saw Sam reaching for his holy water, “Just, put the flask down!”

“Give me one good reason why I should” Sam said in an icy cold tone.

“You’re not even giving me a chance to explain,” Valac retorted as he felt his back touch the wall just behind.

Crowley and Sam exchanged a glance before Sam’s eyes locked fiercely back onto his target. “You’ve got thirty seconds,” he declared.

“Okay, Lauren started texting me last night. She told me that, well, she missed me and that we were getting closer,” he explained.

Sam frowned, “Closer to what?”

“Dean, I guess,” Valac swallowed hard, “But I think the demon thing, whatever Alastair did to her, is wearing off. And that’s the truth, you can even check my phone if you want.”

“No, no I believe you,” Sam murmured, slipping the flask back into his bag atop the bad. Valac breathed a sigh of relief. “Just, why would Lauren be giving you tips?”

Valac cautiously began to approach Sam’s location. He shrugged, “Hell if I should know. Like I said, I think she’s beginning to regain control of herself. Overcome whatever Alastair did to bring out her inner demon.”

“Here,” Sam sighed, outstretching his hand in which to return Valac’s phone. He then allowed his shoulders to slump in dismay, coursing a hand through his hair.

“If I may make a suggestion,” Crowley suddenly piped in, “What about Ball Parks?”

“What?” Sam asked mindlessly.

Crowley rolled his eyes, “The place where our pharmacist’s car was found, remember?”

Sam’s expression came alight with recollection almost instantly. “That’s right!” he exclaimed, jumping up from his position, “Well we should go, see if it can offer us any leads.”

“And this is why you love me,” Crowley smiled boastfully.

Sam said nothing as he reached for the keys atop the table and headed towards the door, both demons following close behind. “Oh please,” Valac scoffed.

Crowley chuckled lightly as his lack of enthusiasm, “C’mon Val, I know you adore me.” He swaggered his eyebrows for extra emphasis.

“When this is all over,” Valac paused in the archway, “Remind me to maim you.”

Crowley simply snickered as he shut the door behind him, trekking after the young Winchester who was already half-way down the corridor. The drive to Ball Parks was not far, but as the group arrived it definitely was not what they were expecting. Sam walked towards the center of the field, kicking up red-tinted dirt with each footstep. He stood in the middle of the ever large arena, looking up towards the sky in dismay.

“There’s nothing here,” Sam muttered under his breath.

Valac and Crowley exchanged a sort of disappointed look, Valac letting out a deep sigh. “Sam, I’m sorry,” he consoled.

Sam bawled his fists tightly, dropping to his knees. Throwing his arms up into the air, the young hunter let out a most aggravated scream—he was just so tired. Tired of fighting and tired of all the struggles that hit his family again, over and over.

Crowley cleared his throat, “If I may suggest, why don’t we try those trees over there?” He pointed to a cluster of wood on the far side of the playing field. Sam bit his lower lip and nodded silently.

The group swiftly made their way over to the trees, feeling slightly cooled as the shade concealed their bodies from the sunlight. Sam solemnly made his way over to a nearby tree, observing a bird’s nest sitting amidst a nook in the bark. Suddenly, there came a ringing of music from behind him—Sam turned, watching as Valac fished his cell phone out of his pocket in which to examine a text message.

“It’s from Lauren,” he said, Sam coming slightly closer, “Everything has to start at first base, don’t you think?”

Sam and Crowley exchanged a confused glance. “What does she mean by that?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“I dunno,” Valac shook his head, punching her number in on his phone.

“First base,” Crowley declared suddenly, “We’re at a baseball field, there are bases.”

Sam’s eyes widened in recognition as he took off back in the direction of the arena. Crowley and Valac followed closely behind him, kicking up clouds of earthy dust as they ran along. Once they hit the first base point, Valac pressed the call button on his phone clearing his throat as he waited to be connected. It rang only once before Lauren answered, not speaking as she picked up. She waited for him to make the first move.

“Lauren,” Valac murmured breathlessly.

“Hello Valac,” she replied coolly, her tone blank and emotionless.

Valac decided to put the call on speaker-phone before carrying on the conversation any further. “Lauren, first base—what does that mean?” he asked.

“Think Valac,” Lauren replied, almost hesitantly, “You’re standing on the plate now, yes?”

Valac glanced upward at Sam, nodding as he handed the hunter the phone. He crouched down at the base amidst the dirt, grunting lightly as he pulled it up from its position. Beneath it, there was a small folded piece of paper. Again Valac looked towards Sam for direction, the hunter simply swallowing hard as he debated what to say.

“Lauren, where’s Dean?” Sam dared to ask suddenly.

Lauren seemed to flinch as she heard Sam’s voice, audibly swallowing before she spoke. “It’s good to hear your voice Sam. Dean, well—“ she was interrupted by the abrupt sound of screaming in the background, “He’s with Alastair right now.”

Sam could feel his jaw tightening, his heart rate beginning to accelerate within his chest. “Is that him?” the young hunter had to work to contain the anger that threatened to flare up in his voice.

The screaming dragged on for a moment, the pitch twisting and wrenching in the most spine-chilling of ways. “It is,” Lauren admitted in defeat, her voice trembling. She sounded as though she were sniffling as well, tears on the verge of spilling over. “I, I don’t know what his plan is.”

“Lauren, listen to me,” Sam instructed, “Just tell us where you are. We can come get you, this can all be over.”

Lauren gasped suddenly, “I can’t. He’s coming.”

With that the line went dead, Sam only to be left in dismay and confusion. The hunter was half-tempted to throw the phone to the ground and smash it into a million pieces, but he refrained. Quickly Valac grabbed it from Sam’s outstretched hand, glancing at the now blank screen in wonder. Sam simply allowed his shoulders to slump low, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

“There is still reason to hope, Sam,” Valac consoled.

“How?” Sam sighed deeply, glancing upward at the demon.

“The note,” Crowley stated factually, flaunting the small piece of paper in front of the hunter’s face, “We still don’t know what it says.” Sam automatically reached to pluck it from his hands, feeling like a little child as Crowley yanked it back so the hunter couldn’t reach it. “Now, now, calm down,” Crowley scolded, unfolding the paper, “Somewhere in between—Salem.”

“Salem? Like, the Salem Witch Trials?” Valac questioned in bewilderment.

Sam rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “No, I don’t think so. Somewhere in between, somewhere, somewhere.” At this, Sam quickly scrambled back the car, fishing in the glove compartment for something.

“What is it you’re looking for?” Crowley asked.

Sam didn’t answer him for a moment, his eyes scanning between all the junk he and Dean managed to stuff in there over the years. “A map,” he said at last, grunting somewhat as he arose from his position in which to spread the map out upon the hood.

Both Valac and Crowley gathered at Sam’s side, watching as he looked intently over the state of South Dakota. “There,” the hunter declared, pointing his finger to a specific location, “Salem.”

“How long will it take to get there?” Valac asked, tracing the route from their current position to Salem with his eyes.

Sam scratched his head, “Three, three and a half hours maybe?”

“Wait, wait, we don’t even know where Lauren is once we get there,” Crowley interjected.

Sam just looked the demon square in the eye. “Which is why we should get going, so we can look,” he said in a dangerously calm tone. On that note, Sam turned swiftly away from Crowley, folding up the map as he slipped into the driver’s seat.

Valac made for the passenger’s seat, pausing as he opened the door to glance over his shoulder towards Crowley’s direction. “You know, if you think this is a suicide mission, you don’t have to come. We can stop Alastair,” he shrugged.

Crowley said nothing as he watched Valac slip into the car beside Sam, his jaw tightening as he felt a slight mar in his pride. He chuckled lightly to himself, licking his lips as he approached the passenger window. “Take this, it could be of some value,” he offered the note to Valac. Valac accepted it, glancing up from the folded square of paper only to see that Crowley was no longer there.

Sam glanced over at the demon as he placed the keys into the ignition and started the engine. “Ready?” he asked. Valac nodded silently, slipping the note into his pocket as they sped off.

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Lauren worked quickly to stuff the phone back into her pocket as she heard Alastair emerging from the other room. Wiping the slight tears from her under her eyes, she quickly straightened up, no wanting Alastair to catch her off guard. She heard the door close behind her with a thud, preparing for what was next to come.

“He’s stopped screaming,” Lauren observed as Alastair came closer to her location.

“He’s unconscious,” Alastair explained.

Lauren swallowed hard, “What are you doing to him?”

Alastair hesitated for a moment, as if debating on how to answer her question. “I’m transforming him, Lauren,” he responded coyly, “No one ever said it would be an entirely painless process.”

“I can see that,” Lauren retorted quickly. She could fell Alastair just behind her should now, his immense body heat radiating on to her. She turned to face him, noticing that he was clutching his wrist with impressive force. Hesitantly, she reached out to pull his hand away revealing the marred skin underneath. She gasped at the sight, Alastair seeming to remain indifferent.

“I’ve endured much worse than this my dear,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well uh, let me grab a rag to clean it up,” Lauren muttered, swiftly turning in which to head into the next room over. It wasn’t completely sectioned off, only separated by a half-wall.

Alastair, in the meantime, pulled out his own cellular device selecting a few options in which to access Lauren’s phone. That was the greatest part to having a follower—they kept no secrets from you. Scrolling through the menu of her recent calls, the demon easily found Valac’s name at the top of the list. Perhaps it was a good thing he’d found a purpose for her, especially now. Hearing her footsteps upon the floorboards, Alastair swiftly concealed the phone once more.

“Here, let me see,” Lauren murmured, setting a bowl of water atop the nearby table.

Alastair allowed her to examine the wound for a moment, making no objection as she gently blotted the blood away. “This is a flesh-wound,” he said at last, “I can take care of it myself.”

Lauren looked slightly taken aback, “But I—“

“You can cook, yes?” Alastair interrupted her suddenly, not wishing for Lauren to dwell on his inquiry.

“Well yeah, to a certain degree,” Lauren nodded uncertainly.

“Dean will be hungry when he awakes. Go, prepare a meal for him,” Alastair commanded simply. Honestly he didn’t care what she cooked for the hunter, as it would be of little use anyhow. Dean would be craving something much deeper by then...

Lauren just stared blankly at the demon for a moment. Of course—it was still all about Dean! Had she really been so stupid to think that Alastair would be content with the hunter once he had him within his grasp? No, there always seemed to be another step to the plan. Without a word she arose, clenching her fists tightly as she marched into the kitchen. How did Alastair expect her to fix Dean something to eat if there was hardly anything for her to eat herself? She let out a deep sigh, placing her hands upon the countertop in exasperation.

Alastair meanwhile, in the other room, grabbed the needle and thread Lauren had left behind and began to stitch himself up. Unlike most people though, he didn’t feel the pain that usually came along with the process—no, he didn’t even flinch. It had taken quite a long time to achieve this goal, this numbness, and secretly the demon looked forward to the day when Dean would no longer feel pain as well. That would be a true accomplishment.

Taking up a nearby pair of scissors, Alastair cut the remainder of thread setting it and the now bloody needle aside. Had he been any less of a demon, he probably would’ve sterilized the cut but Alastair had no need to worry about petty human infections. His meatsuit had suffered much more during the time of his possession—the poor bastard was probably close to death by now anyway. That thought made Alastair smile somewhat to himself.

“There’s nothing here,” Lauren announced suddenly, ripping Alastair from his pool of thought.

“Nothing?” Alastair echoed in curiously.

“Just bread and water basically,” she clarified.

“No matter,” he muttered, arising from his seat, “Come with me to check on him.”

Lauren was hesitant at fist, wondering why Alastair desired her company, but still she proceeded. She followed him to the room in which he kept Dean, watching as Alastair unbolted the lock with ease. “Ladies first,” Alastair extended an arm out cordially.

“Um, thanks,” Lauren frowned somewhat as she stepped forth into darkness.

Alastair paused in the door, a faint smile flickering across his lips. He spoke softly, “No Lauren, thank you.”

Lauren glanced over her shoulder at him in bewilderment. “For what?” she asked.

Alastair said nothing in response, snickering deviously as he shut the door behind her, locking it securely. Lauren immediately ran towards it, pounding her fists against the solid frame. “Alastair!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, “Let me out!”

Suddenly there came a noise from across the room which alerted Lauren. Turning, she pressed her back against the wall, her chest bobbing up and down as she breathed vigorously. The air in here was so incredibly thick—it was truly a wonder how Dean was managing to stay alive in this setting. Her thoughts became like a magnet to the hunter then. He was still in here, after all. Like a caged animal in an unfamiliar setting. Slowly she crept along the wall, trying to find the farthest corner of the room. Her footing was misplaced suddenly, as she tripped over something on the floor. Lauren gasped as she fell to the floor, instant pain rippling from her palms and up her arms. Bringing her knees up close to her chest Lauren curled herself into a ball, lifting her hands only mere inches from face in which to examine them. In the faint glistening light she could see thin shards of glass splintering her flesh, tiny beads of blood beginning to ooze out of the many wounds. Closing her eyes tightly, Lauren allowed a light whimper of pain to escape her lips—what had she fallen over? Where did the broken glass even come from?

And there was that noise again. Louder this time, and approaching swiftly closer. Always closer. “Dean?” Lauren called out into the darkness, her voice trembling as tears threatened to overtake her eyes, “Dean is that you?”

For a moment there was nothing, only the ever present silence. And then there came the hunter’s gruff voice, “Lauren.”

She swallowed hard, attempting to pull herself up from the position in which she sat. Her hands throbbed so badly with the jagged slivers of glass still penetrating her palms. She gasped out, desperately clutching the wall with her fingertips now careful not to trip over the strange object like before. “Dean, where are you?” she pleaded.

“I’m here,” his voice echoed suddenly from behind her, his breath steamy on the skin of her neck, “And you have something that I want.”

Lauren didn’t even have a chance to react before she could feel Dean’s muscular arms smothering her. Back further into the blackness he dragged her, keeping her secure within a headlock before slamming her fragile body against a wall. Lauren expected some kind of massive beating, some kind of unbelievable struggle, but instead the hunter simply lifted one of her hands towards his face. She waited in uncertainty for what was to come, unexpectedly feeling Dean’s tongue prick one of the wounds upon her palm. She tried to jerk away, but his grasp was far too much for her to break free from. As Dean continued to try and drain as much blood as possible from the miniscule cuts, he could feel the shavings of glass pricking at his tongue but he couldn’t care. He just desired more, more of the toxic poison which was now coursing through his veins, and at this point he honestly didn’t care how he got it.

Growing more and more desperate, Dean whipped the small switchblade that Alastair had left behind for him out from his pocket and dragged it across Lauren’s palm. He heard her shriek at his abrupt action, but it was beyond him now. He just needed a taste—One. Little. Taste. Plastering his lips to her flesh, Dean began suckling vigorously. As her thick, steamy blood poured down his throat the hunter began to feel that overwhelming heat creeping upon his skin once more. A bead of sweat traced down the skin of his neck.

Lauren still helplessly tried to push him away, but it was still no use. Feeling tears spilling over her eyes, she did the only she could do—call out to the demon she had trusted, the demon who betrayed her. “Alastair! Please Alastair!!”


	13. Chapter 13

Only when a loud shuttering filled her ears did Lauren stir. Blinking vigorously, she squinted as the realization came to her that she was indeed out of the darkness and facing up towards a blinding light. There came another loud slamming noise from behind her, and within moments Alastair’s face was peering down at her from where he stood. She could feel her jaw tighten simply to look at him, hate and fury bubbling just beneath the surface so powerfully. “You,” she muttered, but she was far too weak to speak anything further.

Alastair simply smiled a knowing smile, as keeping his gaze fixated immensely on her. “Me,” he replied so casually, “Did you enjoy your time alone with Dean, hmm?” Lauren choked as she so desperately tried to speak, earning a menacing laugh from Alastair in return. “I thought as much. But alas, seems as though your purpose has worn thin my dear,” he cleared his throat.

Leaning down somewhat, Alastair wrapped his hand around Lauren’s ankle and began to carelessly drag her over the floor of the house. “Wh—“ she sputtered, “Where are y- you taking me?”

“Away,” Alastair muttered.

As her senses became clearer Lauren soon realized that he was carting her towards the door, and ultimately away from this place. To be deserted and discarded, like a piece of clothing that had been outgrown. Something to be abandoned and forgotten, meaning nothing more than a speck of dust in the demon’s view. Lauren bit down on her lip, closing her eyes tightly as she felt tears beginning to floor their corners. “But why?” she so barely whispered as Alastair halted in which to open the door, “Wh- what have I done?”

Alastair paused in his work, merely watching the single tear which rolled down the side of her temple. Crouching down he came close to her, examining her face twisted with oh so many emotions. He replied in an almost equally low tone, “But that’s just it. You’ve done enough, giving Dean what he needs to be sustained. For now, anyway. Your sacrifice has bought be time, but because of your only partial demonism, well, you’re not much use to me now.”

“So that’s it?” Lauren gasped, “J- just like that, it’s all over?”

Alastair sighed somewhat impatiently, “All good things must come to an end Lauren. Now, enough chatter. Down to business.”

On that note, Alastair whipped a dark sack seemingly out of thin air and placed it over Lauren’s head. She squirmed in attempted resistance but it was no use—the sack was made of cloth, so there were tiny holes in the fabric and she would not suffocate, but even so it still made for a terrible experience. With a massive thud, Alastair continued to drag her down the three steps which lead to the house and onto the ground below. It was raining, Lauren could tell, as she could feel droplets make their way through material the dampness touching her skin ever so slightly.

It was a short while longer before the demon loaded her into some kind of vehicle, and with the slamming of the door they were on their way. It was unnervingly silent as Alastair started the engine and pulled away from the house, seeming not to miss a single pothole as they drove. Lauren wondered to herself if he’d done that on purpose. She wanted so badly to beg and plead for him not to let her go. For him to find some use for her and keep her in his presence. She wasn’t ready to be so secluded and separated from the only kind of acceptance she’d felt in such a long time.

After a surprisingly quick time of only twenty minutes or so, Alastair abruptly stopped the car. Lauren could hear him walking atop of crunchy gravel in which to come around to the other side of the vehicle and also the sliding of the door as it opened. She was once more lifted from her position, but unexpectedly just dropped close by to where Alastair had stopped the car. Lauren could feel her heart rate increasing as she simply lay there, desperate for him to just say something—anything.

Hearing a light shuffle, Lauren knew that he was preparing to leave her in this random place by the side of the road. Quite frankly though, she wasn’t ready for that just yet. “Alastair!” she shouted, using all the strength she could conjure in which to rip the sack from her head, “Wait, please!”

Alastair did as she asked, surprisingly, glancing just over his shoulder to address her. “Really Lauren, you’re making this much difficult than it has to be. You should be thanking me,” he scoffed somewhat.

Lauren’s eyes widened in amazement. “Thanking you?” she spat, “Why the fuck would I do that exactly? You just let me to be Dean’s chew toy and now you’re dumping me off on some foreign road!”

At this point Alastair turned to face her fully, his eyes dark with a deathly seriousness. “And there are many worse alternatives,” he said sharply.

Once the demon began to walk away yet again, Lauren scrambled partially on her hands and knees across the rough ground desperately chasing after him. She reached up, clutching his hand as one last plea. But Alastair had simply had enough and was fed up—he yanked his hand away from her, slapping her forcefully and thus knocking her back a few feet. Lauren gasped out in surprise as he had never struck her before. She said nothing as he disappeared around the side of the car, simply touching her cheek which was now thumping with a dull ache. Fresh tears streaked down her face as the sky above grew even darker and the previously steady rain turned to an uncertain downpour. The exhaust from the car kicked up in her face as Alastair set the vehicle in drive and sped off once more. Bringing her legs close to her check, Lauren sat there and listened to the rain falling heavily all around her. Glancing down at her hands, she examined the purple-tinted bite mark upon her palm along with the many shards of glass still embedded in her skin. She would have to find someone of assistance if she was ever going to clean her wounds properly.

Hoisting herself up off the ground, Lauren reached in her pocket in hopes that her cell phone would still be there. And useable. She held in the button in which to turn the device on, silently praying all the while that she would still have at least one sliver of battery life left. The screen squiggled, its picture distorted as water had gotten into the circuitry. “Damn it, come on,” Lauren mumbled, slapping the side of it in frustration. Luckily that seemed to do the trick and she wasted no time in dialing the first number which came to mind—Sam, surprisingly enough. He’d only given her his number once, before he and Dean had left her home. Just in case of an emergency. She really hadn’t any reason to remember, but for some reason she had and so she decided now would be the best time to make use of it.

It rang twice before the young hunter picked up. “Hello?” he said, sounding somewhat hesitant as he obviously didn’t recognize the number.

“Sam,” Lauren choked, her voice sounding much more fragile than she had intended, “I, I need help.”

“Lauren! Where are you, what’s wrong?” Sam urged, suddenly very intent and focused.

Lauren stammered, seemingly unable to find the right words, “Alastair, h- he left me. I’m on this road, and it’s pouring, and I’m cold, and my hand—“

Sam could hear her wince in pain on the other end. “What’s wrong with your hand?” he asked, concern showing evidently in his voice.

Lauren swallowed hard, her voice shaking as she spoke, “I can’t get it to stop bleeding, it really hurts. Sam I need you, please.”

“Oh my God, Lauren what did he do to you?” Sam muttered under his breath, “Sure, where are you?”

Swallowing hard, Lauren listened and searched for any indicator which could tell her where in fact she was. She could see the town they had entered a few days ago just a few miles in the distance—what was the name of it again? “I- I’m on 81 I think. Right outside, oh what the hell is that place? Salem! I’m outside Salem.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Sam promised solemnly.

“Alright,” Lauren replied breathlessly, “And Sam, hurry.”

Without another word Sam hung up the phone, his knuckles growing pale as he clutched the steering wheel to the Impala even tighter than before. “Was that Lauren?” Valac asked curiously.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded simply, spinning the car quickly in reverse.

Valac just eyed him precariously. “So where is she? I mean, she’s gonna be okay right?” the demon persisted, his voice growing more and more frantic with each passing moment.

Sam shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Valac spat hysterically.

“Alastair left her on the side of the road, probably for dead!” Sam defended eagerly as he drove, “So yeah, I don’t know okay Valac?”

Valac swallowed hard allowing the true horror of the situation to finally dawn on him. “So where is she?” he murmured quietly.

Sam kept his eyes focused intently on the road before him as he continued driving. “Right outside Salem,” Sam replied, his voice much calmer than just moments ago.

The demon said nothing further, simple running a hand over his forehead as anxiousness quickly swept over him. Was Lauren back to her old self? Would they be able to find Alastair? And what about Dean? Valac’s last thought lingered on the elder hunter for quite some time. Long than he would’ve like, quite honestly.

“No matter what happens,” Sam said after a long drawn pause, “Lauren’s gonna be okay.”

Valac nodded but cleared his throat before speaking, “It’s not her so much that I’m worried about.” Sam eyes quickly caught Valac’s and the demon could clearly see the panic which filled the hunter so immensely. “Sam, there’s no guarantee that Dean—“

“Stop,” Sam interrupted him fiercely, “Valac, I can’t think about that right now.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Valac challenged sternly.

“Won’t,” Sam urged, “Right now getting to Lauren is the important thing, making sure she’s safe. And when we’ve got her bandaged up, then we can find Dean. I just, I won’t let myself be distracted when every move we make is gonna effect what comes next.”

“Sam!” Valac shouted, pointing out the wind shield at Lauren’s figure which was dead ahead. She was just standing in the middle of the road, as though in some kind of trance, watching as the Impala drew nearer and nearer with each passing second.

Sam pressed his foot desperately to the break, the sound of tires scraping against asphalt quickly filling his ears. The young hunter could feel his adrenaline picking up as he came close, so close, to almost hitting her. With a swerve of the steering wheel Sam turned the car parallel to Lauren’s body, driving slightly into the nearby field on the left side. And with a sudden halt, everything came to a stop.

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Dean had grown accustomed to the heat of his prison by now, but not to the immense burning which coursed through his veins. There was hardly a moment when the hunter did not feel the low drumming pain flourishing over his entire body, causing him to curl inward towards himself atop the floor. The sound of his own heart thudding so drastically was all that filled his ear drums and his eyes felt as though they might just fall out of his skull if he stared for too long. And so Dean kept his eyes shut, hands clamped firmly over his ears as though to block out the rest of the world.

Though there was one voice Dean knew he could not block out—one that had met him in the darkest corner of Hell and would follow him to all the ends of the earth if need-be. That familiar malevolent laugh echoed within Dean’s mind and the hunter could not help but open his eyes to the ever present aura of his master standing before him. From the position in which he stood most of Alastair’s features were silhouetted, but Dean could clearly see the demon’s smile beaming down upon him. It was that smile which Dean hated so much but, at the same time, was certain he’d never been happier to see.

“Alastair,” he whispered, his voice as faint as a prayer to some distant god.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Alastair sighed almost curiously, “You’ve made quite a mess in here my boy.”

Dean swallowed hard, hoping that Alastair was not truly mad at him—he simply could not stand the thought of disappointing the demon. “I couldn’t control myself,” he stated simply, partially because it was the truth but also because he didn’t know what else to say.

“I know,” Alastair nodded understandingly as he lightly stroked his fingertips through Dean’s hair. The hunter at first flinched against his touch but did not put up a fight as he felt so weakened. “And how are you feeling now, hmm?”

Dean closed his eyes tightly, feeling the faintest of tears pricking at their corners. “It hurts,” he gasped similarly to that of a small child, “Please, make it go away. Make it stop.”

Alastair shook his head like he had just told Dean some seemingly easy joke. “Come now Dean, sit up,” he coaxed. Dean did as he was told, begrudgingly, keeping his knees curled up towards his chest as he leaned against the wall just behind him. “How does it feel?”

“Hurts,” Dean mumbled again, feeling almost humiliated at how babyish he was acting.

“Yes well, Lauren’s blood was not quite, how should I say, pure,” Alastair thought aloud, drumming his fingers lightly upon his chin, “No matter.” Dean watched with curious eyes as the demon pulled a danger seemingly from nowhere and drove it into the tip of his finger. “Taste,” he ordered.

Dean watched as a small bead of crimson blood formed on Alastair’s fingertip, feeling that hungry rage bubble up inside him once more. Gladly he took hold of Alastair’s hand and brought the demon’s finger to his lips in which to suck the blood away. Alastair allowed him only a small sample before quickly yanking his hand away though. Dean mustered something of an unpleasant growl in response.

Alastair just chuckled at his pupil’s reaction. “Was that better?” he asked.

“Please,” Dean rasped again. He just wanted the pain to be over and, deep down, he knew Alastair was the only one who could end his torment. Who could satisfy his craving and just give him the purest of peace. Even if it was only for a short while.

“No Dean,” Alastair almost scolded him, “I’m not going to be giving you anything from now on. It is your responsibility to take. Take what I offer you.” On that note, the demon dutifully rolled up his sleeve and held out his bare arm for Dean’s enjoyment.

Dean eagerly leaned forward, watching Alastair with hesitant eyes all the while. The demon nodded his approval, his eyes sliding into their horrific milky white state. Dean delicately licked his lips as he stared at the flesh laid out before him, so vulnerable. Then, with one swift motion, the hunter sunk his teeth into the skin just above Alastair’s wrist. The demon winced somewhat as he could hear the crunch of Dean digging into his arm but paid no mind to it—he’d suffered worse injuries over the course of his existence, after all. Even so, that feeling of Dean so desperately clinging to him was simply priceless. The sensation of all his blood flowing towards the wound from which Dean drank, it was like ecstasy.

Dean, meanwhile, lost himself in the strange yet comforting metallic flavor. It was like rusty nails and Kool-Aid all combined into one. He didn’t care that he had to literally bite into Alastair’s arm to get it, a strange poison which condemned the body and altered the mind. Dean thought he finally understood—understood why Sam had fallen so fast for the damn blood. It was purely irresistible, Dean realized that now.

Feeling Alastair’s hand lightly on his cheek drawing him away, Dean obeyed and pulled back in which to look upon his master. “Dean,” the demon cleared his throat sounding slightly fatigued, “Tell me this honestly, my boy. Did you enjoy Hell? The time we spent together?”

Dean debated for a moment before answering. Hell was well, Hell. There wasn’t a lot Dean could say about it, though he realized it had been the most terrible and agonizing experience of his life. At least until he accepted Alastair’s offer. And then, after he really thought about it, Hell changed. It was no longer this unbearable place that tormented Dean. It was like being home. Having control to do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted, within Alastair’s boundaries of course. But the demon really hadn’t had a lot of those, so it made the experience all Dean’s own.

“Yes,” he muttered finally, because it was true, “When I worked with you, it was like I dunno. Some kind of release I guess.”

Alastair nodded as though he understood, “And did you want to leave? Did you really want to return to this damned earth and feel all that suffering again? Have to deal with the shame and the guilt?” The demon made sure to emphasize these words clearly in which to inflict emotion within Dean.

The hunter gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched firmly as old memories swirled within him. “I don’t know,” he shook his head.

“Well, let me put it to you this way,” Alastair licked his lips, “Do you hate the angels?”

Dean shot his head up at this question—it was something he’d never really considered honestly. “What?” he asked, desperately needing clarification.

“Come on Dean, they’ve never been the most honest creatures. Certainly not worthy opponents either,” Alastair cleared his throat, he was getting away from himself, “Do you hate this Castiel for taking you away from your work?”

Dean swallowed hard, “I- I don’t know. Why the Hell are you asking me all this?”

Alastair smiled, “Wouldn’t you at least like some revenge? I mean, this Cas pal of yours surely hasn’t done much to help you. First he takes you away from my dominion, away from that work in which you were so talented my boy. And then, well, he hides the truth about dear Sammy from you. The only time he lifted a finger was to stop Lilith from being killed, but even then he probably knew it was too late.”

Dean tore himself away from the demon’s gaze, trying to concentrate on something else. Anything else. He couldn’t hate Cas, Cas was—what was he? He was an angel. And, as Dean had come to discover over the course of this past year, angels lied. Hell, they were hardly any better than the demons making Dean and Sam run blindly to save their precious seals when in reality it was all just a game. No, Dean shouldn’t have had to put up with any of that shit. And quite frankly, the hunter was tired of it. Tired of Cas, he decided.

“Where is he?” Dean croaked viciously. As he looked up however, he noticed that Alastair had already arisen and was carefully wrapping a bandage around the bite marring his skin.

“Follow me,” the demon murmured, opening the door of what had been Dean’s enclosed cage for the past few days.

The hunter was hesitant at first, seeing as this whole place was unfamiliar to him and the last time this door had been opened a blinding light had shown in. Now, however, it was apparent that dusk had fallen and there was no white light to hold him back now. Only the contenting darkness now. Slowly Dean crept behind Alastair’s certain steps, watching the demon for guidance. Ironically enough, it was like old times almost—when Dean had first accepted Alastair’s offer in Hell, he needed quite a bit of education. Sure, he knew what it felt like to be carved to shreds but he lacked the know-how to actually do it. Having Alastair’s hand over top of his own as he clutched the demon’s razor, being guided through each and every step...

The sensation Dean felt now as they made their way down a flight of basement stairs reminded the hunter of that time down in the pit. He felt so anxious, like there was something awaiting him that was marvelous. Something he could be proud of and call his own. And then, as Alastair flicked a light on, Dean saw his newest victim. An angel, how quaint.

He could see how Castiel had been stripped down to only his white dress shirt and slacks. The shirt, however, was slightly bloodstained around the cuffs surrounding the angel’s wrists. There was a tube filled with strange liquid leading to the radial artery there, flowing the unknown poison into Castiel’s body. Keeping him weak and fragile, Dean mused. He snickered lightly to himself at that—the victims who didn’t fight back were always the best in the hunter’s opinion. Not that Dean didn’t enjoy a good knock-down-drag-out, but this was Cas he was dealing with. Hell, last time he attempted to just punch the angel his fist had hurt like a bitch. But not this time.

“Dean,” Castiel exclaimed as he saw the hunter standing before him. For a brief moment Castiel felt as though he had hope, that perhaps Dean had made some false deal with Alastair and would bust him out of this horrid place. But, as the angel caught site of both the flecks of blood surrounding Dean’s lips and the bandage covering Alastair’s arm, his heart quickly turned cold. This was not the man he had come to know and befriend. This was some kind of monster, the creature that he had rescued from perdition and had pieced back together with his bare hands practically. And now, all his marvelous work had been destroyed.

“Hey there Cas,” Dean cleared his throat, his tone sinister and dripping ever so slightly with sarcasm. It was like Dean was talking to an old enemy pretending to be his friend.

“What has happened to you?” Castiel stammered, his eyes darting between Alastair and Dean as the demon drew ever closer, “What have you done to him?”

Alastair watched Dean almost proudly before turning back to answer the angel. “I, how should I say, tuned him up,” he replied pleasantly.

Before Castiel had a chance to say anything in protest, Alastair reached up to where the bizarre toxin had been flowing into Cas and withdrew the needle at the tube’s head. Castiel winced in pain, bracing himself as the demon did to the same for the needle puncturing his other wrist. Gasping he looked up to see that Dean was standing only a few mere feet away. “What are you planning on doing with me?” he asked, his voice coming out stronger then he actually felt.

Dean pursed his lips, eyes watching the ceiling carefully as he seemed to be in deep thought. “I don’t know,” the hunter mutter deviously with a pause, “But I’ll be sure to let you know when I find out.”

Alastair snickered from beside his apprentice, turning away into the shadows for the briefest of moments. “Thought you might need some tools before you get started there, Dean,” he offered courteously, wheeling a cart into the dim light.

Castiel swallowed hard as he watched Dean carelessly pull the cover from atop the pushcart, unveiling a hideous array of knives, symbolic weapons, and some other tools which the angel didn’t even want to think about how they could be used to make him scream. Much to Castiel’s dismay, however, Dean went straight for one tool which stood out amidst the others—the straight razor.

The hunter’s boots made a petrifying echo in the otherwise silent basement, almost like a heavy drum beat. This of course only helped to add to Castiel’s distress. At long last Dean was inches from the angel’s face, their eyes piercing against each other in some unknown battle. “So, where should we get started?” Dean asked cynically.

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Sam, Valac, and an unconscious Lauren made it to Bobby’s home in Sioux Falls in just under an hour. Sam honestly hadn’t known where else to take her, especially after what Alastair must’ve put her through. Had they taken Lauren to an ordinary hospital, who knows what the doctors might’ve found? And they likely would’ve blamed Sam—they just couldn’t risk it.

After nearly plummeting into a nearby field, Lauren had started going into strange convulsions in which Valac stepped in and knocked her unconscious. Since then, the ride had been quiet. Not unbearably so, just very restless feeling. Sam was glad when they arrived at Bobby’s and the elder hunter was able to help them. Bobby had skimmed through some books, fetched some herbs and other assorted remedies from his cabinets, and after a short twenty minutes or so Lauren seemed to be looking normal.

She was still knocked out, but she no longer had a fever and her pulse was steady. Sam had just checked up on her, and was now coming out of the spare guest room Bobby had upstairs. Turning, Sam unexpectedly saw Valac and jumped in surprise.

“Valac! What the Hell man?” Sam gasped in a hushed voice.

“Sorry,” Valac replied sheepishly, “I uh, I just wanted to see her.”

Sam cleared his throat, “Lauren’s asleep.”

Valac fidgeted with his fingernails somewhat awkwardly, “I figured, but I just want some time alone with her you know?”

“Okay, yeah,” Sam nodded, stepping aside in which to let the demon pass.

Valac said nothing as he grasped the door knob and let himself into the room. Almost as soon as he closed the door behind him, he saw Lauren turn over and look up him with glassy eyes. “Sam said you were asleep,” he said simply.

Lauren let out a deep sigh, “I didn’t want to talk to him. I figured if I pretended to be asleep he’d eventually go away.”

Valac just nodded as he took a few steps closer and sat on the edge of the mattress. Lauren scooted her feet aside in which to make more room for him. “So uh, do you wanna talk to me?” Valac asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Lauren replied honestly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Valac leaned slightly closer, “You know I’ll listen, Lauren. I’m here for—“

“Don’t,” she cut him off sharply, “Valac let’s not go there.”

The demon leaned back, feeling slightly defeated, but kept his cool. No matter what, he promised himself he was not going to blow up in her face. Lauren didn’t need that right now. “Lauren,” he hesitated, “How– What did he do to you?”

Lauren snorted lightly, almost purposefully avoiding eye contact with Valac. “You know, Sam said the same thing to me,” she murmured, her voice dim, “What did Alastair do to me? He, well, opened me up.”

“Lauren, he changed you!” Valac exclaimed. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see that this was terrible. That Alastair had transformed her into someone she wasn’t meant to be.

“Well maybe I was ready for a change,” Lauren retorted fiercely, locking eyes with the demon once more, “Maybe I was ready for a stranger to extend their hand and offer me hope.”

Valac shook his head, still in disbelief. “How can you even believe that?” he whispered.

For a moment Lauren said nothing, content to look upon Valac in silence and try to understand him as much as he attempted to understand her. “He was kind, Valac,” she said at last, earning a sarcastic grunt from the demon in return. Still, she continued, “I know that you probably can’t see it, but the way he touched me—“

“He touched you?!” Valac gasped, appalled that Alastair could even think of pleasing such gruesome desires.

Lauren rolled her eyes, “Not like that! He would just place his hand on my shoulder, or stroke my cheek with such comfort and command. I never once questioned him and that was, well, kind of nice. Not having to be the leader for once.”

Valac watched as Lauren spoke, how eyes became glazed and the faintest of smiles curved over her lips—it was nearly sickening. He could feel something twist inside him then, an ugly feeling of green rage that Valac knew all too well as jealousy. He’d felt the same way about Sam, but he had never imagined feeling that same envy towards Alastair too. “You,” he paused, not brave enough to even trust his own voice, “You didn’t love him, did you?”

Lauren could feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes, but still she would not speak. She had nothing to stand on and nothing to defend her position. Quite frankly, she just didn’t have an answer. “He made me realize what I’m capable of Valac,” she croaked out, her voice trembling, “He- I don’t know, he gave me his undivided attention. Sure, I knew all the time that Dean was his ulterior motive, but just to be the only one in his focus at least for a short while, well that was exhilarating. And I loved every minute of it.”

“He’s the fucking torturer of Hell!” Valac half-shouted at last, “Do you know the things he does for fun? To get off on? The things he’s done to me!”

“I do, I do! And that’s what makes it so much worse! But do you know what it’s like to be missing a piece of you your entire life, and then have the most repulsive person imaginable come by and fill it? Can you even imagine what that does to a person! The guilt and the uncertainty—it’s almost unbearable,” Lauren sobbed.

As if coming to some vast realization, Valac turned to see Lauren’s red swollen eyes. The fresh tears that were glistening atop her face and the purest of agony the strained in her voice. The demon felt such compassion and sincerity in his heart that for a moment it was like humanity had found him again. “Lauren,” he murmured meaningfully as he sprung to the bedside and down on his knees to comfort his dearest and only friend, “Lauren look at me, I’m sorry. No, I don’t know and I can only imagine the hole that’s gotta be eating away you. And I, I’m just so sorry.” He clutched tenderly in his arms, light coursing his fingers through her hair as even more tears spilled from her eyes.

It was a moment before Lauren had regained control of herself to even speak. Gently she pulled away from Valac, keeping a hand plastered lightly upon his cheek. Then, without a word, she kissed his lips so softly and let yet another crystal tear fall. “I want you to go,” she whispered, her voice barely grazing a whisper. Valac looked at her strangely for a moment, unsure of whether he should obey her request or not. “I’m just tired,” she added quickly.

Valac nodded silently, and kissed the back of her hand before standing. He turned and walked towards the door, lingering in the archway for just a moment further. As he stood out in the hallway, the demon wiped the slight dampness that had collected on his eyelashes. Had he cried? No, demons didn’t cry. But he’d been close. And in a way, Valac was quite glad to have emotion again—even if it had been a sad one.

Making a quick stride through the hallway and down the stairs, Valac found himself standing on the landing in confusion. “Lillian,” he muttered as he caught sight of her at the front door speaking with Sam.

“Valac,” Sam called, motioning his hand for the demon to come forward.

“What’s going on?” Valac asked, his brow furrowed, “I thought you were in the hospital.”

Lillian nodded solemnly, “I was. There’s something I think you should know.”


	14. Chapter 14

As he watched Dean approach him slowly with the shimmer razor in hand, Castiel was utterly thankful the hunter hadn’t chosen to just start in ruthlessly. He knew Dean had become merciless, but Castiel did not think he was completely mad—as of now, anyway. And so as Dean leaned in close, well beyond his well-known personal space boundary, the angel couldn’t help but shutter in his suddenly insatiable presence.

“Come on Cas, I’m trying to be nice here,” Dean murmured almost sensually, “At least I’m giving you a choice right? I mean, Hell, with some of those other sons’a bitches they put out for me... well, let’s just say they were choking on their own blood before they even knew I started.”

Castiel swallowed hard, trying his best to keep his eyes focused solely on Dean and not his demonic master which lingered just beyond. He pleaded gently, “Please Dean, you don’t have to do this.”

Dean tilted his head in mock confusion, the light tug of a grin playing at his lips as he gazed upon the angel with eyes so clouded with misguidance. Folding the razor into itself, the hunter temporarily slipped it into his pocket before lifting his hands to run them slowly up Castiel’s torso. The angel, at first, was unsure of the motive behind his actions but as Dean’s fingers approached the first button of his dress shirt Castiel could only guess where this might lead. More flesh for the carving, he mused. Almost hesitantly, Dean looked up towards Castiel’s face once more through a curtain of eyelashes.

“I know I don’t have to do anything,” he spoke softly, “But what if I want to?”

This blew Castiel off his feet entirely. He hadn’t actually expected Dean to be doing all this of his own accord and, quite frankly, the angel wasn’t sure how to react. He then decided to act upon his first instinct of negotiation and ran with it. “How can you be sure this is what you want?” he sputtered frankly, watching as one by one his buttons were undone to reveal his chest, “Have you been offered a mirror in these recent days?”

Dean paused at the angel’s question, caught off guard. He glanced over his shoulder at Alastair in question, the demon’s brow too furrowed in confusion. “What’s that got to do with anything?” Alastair hissed impatiently.

“Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like,” Castiel again spoke quickly, unsure if Alastair would cut him off before he had a chance to fully quote his chosen scripture passage, “But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do.”

By this time, Alastair was nearly half-way across the room rage burning in his eyes. Brushing Dean hastily aside, the demon came within inches of Castiel’s face. “Now you listen to me, angel. I’ve little patience for choir boys, much less ones who don’t know how to shut their traps. Or would cutting off your tongue just fix the problem all together?” Alastair contested fiercely.

Castiel mentally recited the verse from Proverbs, The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. In the end however, he decided against using it—despite Alastair’s threats, he was still trying to win Dean back over. He couldn’t stray from that immense purpose. “Good,” the demon muttered, believing he had silenced the angel.

As Castiel watched Alastair turn his back though, he dared to spoke once more, “If you could only catch a glimpse of yourself Dean, I believe you would crumble faster than a clump of sand.”

Alastair watched Dean intently from where he stood, his back still turned to Castiel. Dean, instead of showing any sign of remorse, only smiled as a light chuckle erupted from his throat. “I smell a challenge,” he waggled his eyebrows, looming closer to Castiel yet again. The angel watched him with uncertainty as he drew so near that the two were nearly breathing the same air. “So tell me Cas, what do I look like to you?”

Castiel swallowed hard, searching for any sign that would show him the Dean he’d come to know was still alive somewhere deep inside his once again butchered soul. The angel instead decided to combat Dean’s question with another question. “Do you remember our conversation back at the motel room?” he asked suddenly, his voice light but firm in his words, “Before Alastair came? When you were lying on that bed, cold and afraid?”

Alastair turned, looking as though he were about to proclaim yet another threat when Dean cut him off abruptly. “Yeah, what’s your point?” the hunter muttered impatiently.

Castiel felt strong now, confident that he had Dean’s undivided attention at last. “I told you that you were a hero, the only one most fit for the hand that fate has dealt you,” he declared, making sure to emphasize the meaning held deep within the memory.

The demon could see how Castiel was attempting to win Dean over now. Stepping forth, he clamped a hand down firmly on the hunter’s shoulder whispering sick discouragements into his ear. “Don’t be swayed Dean, he doesn’t deserve—“

“I still believe that now,” Castiel continued, leaning so close to the hunter that their faces were nearly touching, “And I need you to believe it too Dean, and that you have a choice. There’s always a choice.”

Alastair gritted his teeth, feeling as though he might reach his boiling point at any second. And then it hit him—he could still potentially use Castiel’s words to his advantage. Turn the tables and make the blame fall back on the angel. “That’s right,” he cleared his throat, his voice still low and rumbling with fury, “And you chose to join me. To be a master in the schemes of Hell.”

Dean visibly flinched at the words—they were true, yes, but there were just so many truths being thrown at him from both angel and demon, Heaven and Hell, that he could barely stand it. Feeling his heart thudding so very vigorously within his chest, Dean’s breath hitched in his throat his body now trembling with bewilderment beyond comprehension. He barely even noticed as Alastair’s hand slipped into one of his jean pockets and retrieved the razor that he had discarded but moments ago.

The demon continued on, slowly poisoning Dean’s mind with his words of false reality, “And your choice made you happy, standing before that rack. Wielding my razor.” To layer upon what he’d just said, Alastair dutifully unfolded the razor once more before placing it in Dean’s right hand with a squeeze.

The hunter had to hold back a yelp from escaping from his lips as he felt the metal of the razor lightly brush against his thumb. His mind was still racing with endless thoughts of debate and frustration. “Dean,” Castiel caught his eyes again, “I was only trying to save you.”

And suddenly, Dean felt something completely flip inside of him. “Save me?! I didn’t need saving!” Dean hollered ferociously, “I mean, fuck, that’s the reason I said yes to this son of a bitch in the first place! Alastair was my salvation, he gave me what I needed.” As the hunter just continued to spew out his rage, he honestly couldn’t care what neither angel nor demon were thinking at this point—whether Alastair was offended for seemingly being Dean’s last resort, or Castiel was simply devastated to hear the horrid truth.

Despite any of the words that may have marred the demon’s pride though, Alastair still felt he had the upper hand and used it to gain swift victory. “He broke your happiness Dean, punish him,” Alastair commanded with a cool conciseness to his voice.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured in defeat, his voice trembling as he allowed his head to hang low.

Still Dean felt torn but had no chance in which to escape the order Alastair had laid upon him. Yelling out viciously, the hunter could feel the demon’s hand wrap around his own and lift the razor towards Castiel. Alastair guided Dean’s hand along, just as he had done in Hell, making grooved slits across the angel’s otherwise smooth skin. At some points he dug deeper, causing Castiel to bleed out more rapidly, while others he just barely nicked the exposed flesh.

All the while, however, Dean could not keep himself from screaming a mixture of sweat and vague tears dampening his face. As timed passing though, incomprehensible like that of a dream, the hunter found the echoing laughter of his master and profound cries of his victim combining with his own shrieks in one unbearable chorus.

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Sam and Valac exchanged a curious glance before returning their attention back to Lillian. “Alright, so what’s going on?” Sam asked, casually folding his arms over his chest.

Lillian seemed to hesitate for a moment, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The doctors found a tumor on my liver, of all places,” she began quietly, “The type of formation is pretty common, but there were some, well, complications.”

Sam looked sympathetic, while Valac almost appeared as though he were trying to figure out a most difficult puzzle. The demon cleared his throat, “I’m no doctor but shouldn’t you, I don’t know, maybe still be in the hospital?” Sam nodded in agreement with this statement.

Lillian bit her lip. “Well see, that’s where things get tricky,” she continued on, “It’s gone.”

Sam did a double-take as he looked at her incredulously, nearly unable to fathom her words. “What do you mean, it’s gone?” he stammered in surprise.

“Just what I said, there’s no sign of the tumor. It’s gone,” she repeated.

Valac shook his head, “Sounds kinda miraculous.”

“Not entirely,” Lillian clarified, “I healed it.”

Now it was the demon’s turn to be caught off guard. “You?!” he shouted, sarcastic laughter creeping in the edge of his voice, “You, miss normality over here, have the ability to heal? Who’d have thought!”

Lillian looked frustrated, but said nothing angry towards the demon. “I know, it sounds crazy, but,” her voice trailed off, “But I don’t think Lauren’s abilities may be one-hundred percent of her demonism’s doing. I think that maybe, just maybe, she’s inherited some slight gifts from myself.”

“Well you got a lot of nerve, you know that?” Valac spat suddenly.

Sam looked at him, his brow furrowed in frustration, “Valac—“

“No Sam, he’s right,” Lillian cut the young hunter off, “All this time I tried to change Lauren, tried force anything that wasn’t normal, in the God-awful sense of the word, out of her. When really, it wasn’t her fault at all.”

Suddenly, from the far corner of the room, Bobby Singer spoke up, “Not to break up this little love fest here, but uh Lauren’s upstairs if you wanna talk to her. Hearin you say those words may make her a little more inclined to chat it up about where Dean is, if you catch my drift.”

Lillian looked unexpectedly saddened. “I didn’t realize Dean was still missing,” she murmured under her breath, “Can I talk to her?” She glanced in Valac’s direction almost for some kind of authorization.

“Sure,” Valac shrugged, “I’ll lead the way.”

Silently, the demon led Lillian up the stairway and through the small corridor leading towards the guest bedroom. Knocking lightly on the door, Valac waited for any kind of protest before opening it and stepping forth. He saw Lauren lying on the bed, seemingly resting, her face turned away and slumped on her shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile. “Lauren,” he murmured delicately, shaking her other shoulder lightly, “Lauren, you’ve got someone here to see you.” When he received no reaction of any kind, Valac frowned slightly and continued to try and gently awake her from her sleep. “Hey, Lauren,” he said again, this time louder, as he took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Setting his other hand atop the mattress, the demon suddenly felt something damp upon his fingers. Glancing downward, Valac’s eyes widened in horror as he saw the all too familiar sight of blood flourished over his entire palm. He quickly searched for the cause, grabbing Lauren’s arm and lifting up in which to reveal a dutifully slit wrist. Overturning her other hand, Valac caught sight of not only a razor blade but also the second bloodied wound much to his dismay. “Help,” he choked out, his voice dim and half-hearted before regaining its strength, “We need some help in here!”

Lillian, who had stayed standing just outside the door, quickly rushed in gasping at the scene laid out before her. With a thudding of stairs, Sam appeared in the doorway within seconds with Bobby not too far behind. The eldest hunter pressed past Sam and a most hysteric Lillian, rushing to examine Lauren’s lesions. Muttering obscenities under his breath, he pressed his fingers over the gashes in attempts to stop any further blood from leaking out. “Sam, call an ambulance!” he shouted desperately.

Sam turned when Lillian’s plea caught his attention, “No don’t, wait!”

Bobby looked at her in sheer amazement. “D’you want your daughter to die?!” he yelled furiously.

“Just wait,” she repeated coming swiftly to his side. With a light nudge of his fingers, she was able to place her own over Lauren’s injuries without allowing any blood to leak out. Closing her eyes, Lillian focused all her energy on the flesh that was marred and the lifestream coursing through her daughter’s veins. She just prayed that it would work—she hadn’t the time to dare practice her newfound abilities, but she couldn’t stand the thought of losing Lauren now. Not after this moment of clarity, she needed forgiveness. She needed Lauren to at least know that she loved her.

Much to everyone’s amazement, slight color suddenly began to return to Lauren’s face as the slit skin of her wrist slowly closed over. Lillian was only able to continue on with the healing process a moment longer, before pulling away and panting in the utmost exasperation. Bobby quickly sprung forward once more, this time tearing strips of the thin bed sheet as to create makeshift bandages in which to keep pressure on the barely closed wounds. It would only have to take the slightest yank of skin to open those cuts again and so the hunter handled the young woman with much care.

“I’ll go call an ambulance,” Sam declared and then disappeared without another word.

Lillian, meanwhile, trembled with exhaustion as she moved slightly away from the bed and slowly slumped onto the floor. Running her still bloodstained hands through her hair, she began to sob uncontrollably. Valac, surprisingly enough, was by her side shortly thereafter placing a hand of comfort around her shoulders and stroking her arm lightly.

“It’s alright,” Valac urged, swallowing hard, “Lauren will be fine.”

Lillian shook her head in protest. “No it’s not, it’s my fault. I should’ve, oh God,” she whimpered, her words splicing together in an unrecognizable gibberish.

Valac seemingly couldn’t find any way to combat Lillian’s self-accusations as he cradled her. Slowly rocking her though, he could feel the anguish gradually begin to fade from the woman’s body her tears becoming less and less. Once more Sam appeared in the doorway, his brow knitted with intense concern. “The paramedics are on their way,” he muttered quietly.

Bobby nodded, standing from his place where he’d been tying the last of the linen around Lauren’s wrist. “I’d better wash up a bit,” he cleared his throat, glancing down at his blood-tinted fingers.

Lightly brushing past Sam, the elder hunter made for his bathroom. Sam, meanwhile, slowly approached Lauren’s bedside looking upon her with the utmost interest. In the shadow of her sleeping face he could see the faintest resemblance of remorse and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface within her subconscious. One she awoke, he knew, she would be none too happy about the circumstances.

It didn’t take long for the ambulance to arrive and carry Lauren’s body onto a stretcher and out Bobby’s front door. Lillian naturally tagged along with the paramedics while both Valac and Sam tagged along behind in the Impala. Bobby had decided he’d stay behind—hospitals had never quite been a comfortable surrounding to him. Once they’d all gathered in the waiting room though, it was just a matter of patience and uncomfortable silences. A few police offers had stopped by, wishing to talk primarily to Lillian and Sam but thankfully hadn’t asked too many questions.

At long last though, a doctor with graying hair and a white coat approached the trio. “Uh, which one of you is Valac?” he asked, his voice hushed as though not raise alarm.

“I am,” the demon replied, arising from his seat.

“Lauren’s asking to see you,” he said simply.

Lillian almost looked panicked as the doctor turned to walk away. “Can’t I see her?” she blurted, her voice trembling ever slightly.

The doctor paused, “I’m afraid we’re allowing only one visitor at a time for right now. We don’t want her to feel over crowded.”

Looking as though she were about to object, Sam placed a reassuring hand on Lillian’s shoulder. “Of course,” he nodded graciously to the doctor, watching as the man then walked off.

Valac took a hesitant step towards the corridor which led to Lauren’s room, glancing just over his shoulder at both Sam and Lillian. The hunter motioned Valac silently with his eyes that he should continue onward, and so the demon turned once more and trekked slowly down the hallway. Upon reaching Lauren’s room, in which the door had been left partially cracked open, he sucked in a deep breath for crossing over the archway.

As Valac came through the archway, Lauren only slightly acknowledged his presence with a flick of her eyes before returning her gaze to a distant corner of the room, staring at nothing in particular. “The uh, doctor said you wanted to see me,” the demon spoke lightly, not daring to sit at her bedside as he felt he was not completely welcome. A thick tension seemed to linger in the air.

Lauren nodded, her jaw growing tight before she swallowed hard amidst her constricting throat. “Why?” she asked breathlessly.

Valac furrowed his brow in slight confusion, “I don’t—“

“Oh save it,” Lauren spat, her voice a low growl, “Couldn’t you see that’s what I wanted?”

“Lauren you can’t mean that,” Valac objected, his own voice trembling.

“Can’t I?” Lauren’s brow softened somewhat, “Haven’t I played my part? Haven’t I done enough? I mean, I thought it’s what you wanted too.”

Valac’s eyes widened in the utmost surprise. “Lauren!” he gasped, coming closer to her now, “I- no, that’s insane.”

“But you’ve thought about it,” Lauren insisted, a slight smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Valac couldn’t deny it—there’d been multiple occasions in which he’d pictured the two of them together everlasting. Bound in a chaotic world of ash and flame. But he could never ask that of her, no matter the circumstances. Lauren deserved paradise. “You belong in Heaven,” he said firmly, “When God’s ready for you.”

“God,” Lauren scoffed harshly, “Do you even believe in Him?”

Valac sighed wearily, “I know He exists. And I know He’d welcome you, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I just tried to commit suicide,” she pointed out.

The demon just snickered lightly—playing devil’s advocate, so typical Lauren. Clearing his throat though, he stared her dead in the eye, “Lauren, why would you do it? Alastair let you go, you survived. That’s gotta mean something.”

Lauren shifted uncomfortably atop the stiff white hospital bed. “Life is tiresome,” she admitted, her eyes unfocused as she seemed to search for a reason in which to justify the means, “Death seems... I don’t know, easier. Like there’s only one road, not so many damned choices to make.”

Valac stared in awe at her poor reasoning. “I’d hardly call death easy,” he urged, leaning very close to her indeed now, “Especially Hell. Talk about a poor choice there.”

“Shut up,” Lauren muttered breathlessly. But she didn’t mean it though, Valac knew, not really anyway. Lifting her hand to stroke his cheek, she rested her forehead against his as they seemingly breathed the same air. Valac’s eyes caught sight of the still bright red skin upon her wrist, the razor’s mark so very evident in the dim lighting. Ever so lightly, the demon stroked his thumb over her artery feeling the intense rushing of her pulse beneath his gentle grasp. “But why did you do it?” Lauren half-whispered, her voice a low rumble in otherwise silent room.

Valac leaned back somewhat, placing a tender kiss upon the crown of her forehead. “I didn’t,” he breathed into her hair.

Now it was Lauren’s turn to be confused—glancing up at him with bewildered eyes, she grasped a hold of Valac’s shirt desperately. “Who then?” she pleaded, almost like a reverent prayer to a far-off god.

Valac’s gaze distanced from where he’d been looking at the young woman before him, over towards the doorway once more. Lauren traced the pattern of his eyes, stunned to see Lillian standing solemnly at the edge of the hallway almost afraid to enter the room. “It was your mother,” the demon murmured, cupping Lauren’s cheek knowingly before exiting the room without another word.

Lillian watched carefully as Valac slipped past her and out of the room, staying silent a moment longer once it was just her and Lauren alone. “Hi there,” she said awkwardly, her feet tapping loudly against the linoleum as she walked.

Lauren’s gaze narrowed. “You’re a liar,” she muttered bitterly.

Lillian looked slightly taken aback, that hadn’t quite been what she was expecting. Even so, she remained calm, clearing her throat, “Lauren, I know that you won’t believe—“

“Why should I believe you?” Lauren accused angrily, “My whole life all you’ve done is lied to me!”

Lillian ran a hand through her hair in exasperation, “Now hold on just a minute. You and I, we may not have known each other very long but I never lied to you Lauren. Not ever, I’ve only been honest with you.”

“Bullshit, you could’ve helped me! You could’ve told me what I really was, helped me to figure it out! Instead of ridding yourself of me like some kind of disease!” Lauren shouted, feeling fierce anger flush to her face.

“I’m sorry,” Lillian only half-shouted back, “I am Lauren, sorry that I didn’t raise you. Sorry that I left you behind, but I didn’t even know who I was let alone my daughter.”

“What are you talking about?” Lauren sniffled.

Lillian dared to approach her child’s bed, not coming to stand beside Lauren just yet, but trying to evoke empathy with her body language. “After that demon came—“

“Alastair,” Lauren corrected, a certain persistent edge to her voice.

“Yes, Alastair,” she nodded, “After he came to the motel room, to collect Dean and his angel friend, I was sent to the hospital. They discovered a tumor-mass growing in my liver.”

“A tumor,” Lauren echoed lightly, her eyes glazed a bit, “Are they treating you?”

Lillian chuckled lightly, “See, that’s the kicker. I healed it.”

Lauren’s eyes became the size of saucers with sudden amazement. “But... how?!” she exclaimed, utterly perplexed.

“When I was in that hospital, something was triggered. I don’t know what, but some kind of energy I guess was released and so that’s when I discovered my ability to heal. Lauren, I did my best to mend the wounds on your wrists. I watched as the skin resealed itself and was made new,” she spoke so softly now, standing at the foot of Lauren’s bed.

“But why?” Lauren choked, feeling tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

Lillian shook her head incredulously, “Because you’re my daughter. Because I love you.”

Lauren could feel fresh tears spilling down her face now, beginning to gurgle and sob uncontrollably at the emotion lodged in her throat. “D- don’t you say things like that,” she protested defiantly.

But Lillian continued to ignore her daughter’s empty threats, only coming closer in which to wrap her arms protectively around her hysteric child. Slowly stroking her fingers through Lauren’s hair, Lillian was able to quiet her somewhat before speaking once more. “I’ve always loved you Lauren, from the moment you were born,” she declared boldly, “I know it was wrong of me to push you away, to try and change whatever it is that rages inside you. And I know I don’t deserve it, but– but if you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me, that would bring me closure. To know that there could at least be some peace between us.”

Lauren pulled away ever slightly, looking up at her mother in wonder. “I’ve never held a grudge against you,” she replied quite honestly, “Ever since that day we met, and you tried to exorcise me, I made a vow that I would always forgive you. That if I could just not be bitter in my heart then maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to hold onto the light and not give into the darkness.”

“You don’t know how happy this makes me,” Lillian uttered, her voice barely even audible as she lightly planted a kiss atop her daughter’s head. Lauren said nothing in return, simply wrapping her arms around her mother and breathing in the scent of acceptance—love. “Though Lauren,” Lillian cleared her throat, pulling back, “I need to ask a favor of you.”

Lauren made no qualms as her mother gently took her hands in her own, stroking her thumb lightly over the skin of Lauren’s palm. “What is it?” Lauren asked curiously.

Lillian hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, “I need you to tell me where Alastair is. Where he’s holding Dean.”

And for a moment, Lauren couldn’t seem to meet her mother’s stare. Alastair, well, he’d given her everything she’d ever wanted practically. As she explained to Valac, all the warmth and affection which she’d never been fortunate enough to receive but so desperately desired. Hell, Alastair, or the loss of him rather, had been what drove her to this point of helpless. She’d even used a razor in his honor. But as her thoughts continued to twist and collide even further, Lauren realized that he could quite simply be replaced. Had been replaced. By her mother, of all people—Lillian had just filled her heart with a hope and love to which none could compare. Lillian would try to establish a relationship with her now, Lauren knew. One that would not diminish as easily as the cheap heartache she’d formed with Alastair.

“Please,” Lillian’s voice was urgent then suddenly, “We need to get Dean back.”

Lauren felt release then. That she no longer needed to hold onto Alastair, protect him so—after all, why should she? He’d abandoned her. Helping to take what he had strived so hard for was certainly the least she could do. Anger bubbled within her, a wish to see the demon falter. “I need a piece of paper,” she spat suddenly, “I can draw you a fucking map.”

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Alastair had helped Dean to make good use of his razor—gauging Castiel in various places across his chest. Watching in delight as crimson lifestream flowed so thick and luscious from the raw and battered flesh. Finally though Dean had said, “Enough.” Alastair left without an argument.

Since then the events, or lack thereof, which had taken place had been far less than Castiel was expecting. Dean had turned away from him so suddenly, sitting in a chair just beside his cart of tools. Picking a thin knife from the bunch, he’d daintily picked at the dirt under his fingernails until the skin around them began to bleed. Not that Castiel was complaining at the lack of torture on his part though, for he knew Dean was capable of so much worse than a few scrapes.

But they’d spent much time alone in the darkness already and deep down Castiel knew that this solitary confinement amidst the two of them could not last for much longer. Alastair had to rejoin them sometime. “Dean,” the angel rasped at long last. The hunter said nothing in response, simply flickering his eyes in Castiel’s direction in which to indicate that he had at least heard what he’d said. “What is it you plan on doing?”

Dean paused from his fidgeting with the knife, turning his head with a movement so slow in which to face the angel. “What would you like me to do?” he challenged, his voice still grave an unfamiliarly dark.

Castiel swallowed hard as he watched Dean arise from his seat now, placing the knife carelessly aside on the cart once more. Though he knew the razor was still in his pocket. “Release me,” the angel pleaded uselessly.

A low growl-laugh echoed against the stillness of the room, Dean taking one, two, three steps closer to where the angel was secured. “Sorry there Cas, no can do,” he muttered airily, “But let me know if you think of anything else.”

At this, the hunter ran his eyes up and down the angel’s body almost lustfully. He was so close, Castiel could feel Dean’s body heat radiating off him so immensely—the hunter was hot, especially in comparison to the chilled flesh widely exposed on Castiel. The angel’s insides twitched with nervous anticipation as Dean just continued to stand there and look him over. And then, with a movement so swift, the hunter raised his hand above Castiel’s head simply to yank at the short and spiky strands of his hair. It seemed to bring a delightful grin to Dean’s face as Cas winced at the slight irritating pain, the hunter gaining some kind of twisted pleasure from watching the angel’s mouth fall open when he tugged even harder.

“Ah Dean,” Castiel groaned when the hunter began to twist his hair tightly, pulling at it from the roots now.

Dean leaned his head in even further, slipping it towards the nape of Castiel’s neck in which to whisper delicately into the angel’s ear. “You beg so easily,” he said, his voice thick.

Castiel could feel himself trembling now, Dean’s breath oh so very hot as he breathed against the delicate skin on the angel’s neck causing gooseflesh to rise at the sensation. The angel had to close his eyes a moment in which to regain control, daring to speak once more, “I am inclined to—“

Interrupting him suddenly, however, there came a loud crash from the floor above followed by voices that Dean was all too familiar with. Letting go of Castiel abruptly, Dean turned back to his cart of tools crouching down to the bottom shelf in which to retrieve his shot gun. Briefly checking to make sure it was loaded, the hunter clicked it into place and wielded it tight against his chest as he braced himself for whatever was to come.

There was a struggle near the top landing of the stairs, and then Dean could hear not one or two, but three, sets of feet barreling down the creaky steps. The door was pushed open quickly, without hesitation, which was a mistake to whoever stood just behind, Dean knew. Cocking his weapon, the hunter fired with a loud bang.

“Watch out!” Sam’s voice echoed, panicked.

Smoke filled the air, clouding Dean’s vision somewhat, but not before he was able to make out a silhouetted figure falling to the floor below.


End file.
